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POMANDER  WALK 


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J-^COTT  CjJIILIAM^. 


NEfcJ  YORK, 

40HN   1-ANE  CO^PAT^JV 

«  MCMXI   o 


Copyright,  191  i 
By  John  Lane  Company 


THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


TO 

GEORGE   C.  TYLER 

FOR   VALOUR 


^4^^ 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    Concerning  the  Walk  in  General  .    .         i 

II.  How  Sir  Peter  Antrobus  and  Jerome 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  Esquire,  Smoked  a 
Pipe  Together 20 

III.  Concerning    Number    Four    and   Who 

Lived  in  It $$ 

IV.  Concerning  a  Mysterious  Lady  and  an 

Elderly  Beau 53 

V.    Concerning  What  You  Have  All  Been 

Waiting  for 70 

VI.    In  which  Pomander  Walk  is  not  Quite 

Itself 95 

VII.    Showing  How  History  Repeats  Itself  .     113 

VIII.    Concerning  a  Great  Conspiracy  ...     129 

IX.    In  which  Old  Lovers  Meet,  and  the 

Conspiracy  Comes  to  a  Head     ...     145 

X.  In  which  the  Mysterious  Lady  Re- 
appears and  Helps  Jack  to  Vanish   .     162 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XI.    Pomander  Walk  Takes  a  Dish  of  Tea   .     185 
XII.    In  which   the  Old  Conspiracy  is  Tri- 
umphant AND  A  New   Conspiracy  is 
Hatched 202 

XIII.  In  which  Admiral  Sir  Peter  Antrobus 
is  More  Determined  Than  Ever  to 
Fire  the  Little  Brass  Gun    ....     219 

XIV.  In  wthch    Miss    Barbara    Pennymint 

Hears    the    Nightingale   and    the 
Lamps  are  Lighted 234 

XV.  Showing  How  the   Roundabout  Road 

Leads  Back  to  the  Starting  Point  .     250 


4||g|jt(_  HiM^IIirgiirndBiKig  y§S^ 


Marjolaine Frontispiece 

To  Face  Page 
Jim  —  a  very  active  old  sailor  in  spite  of  his  stiff 

leg 4 

She  spent  at  least  one  hour  with  him  every  day, 
listening,  as  she  told  the  sympathising  Walk, 
to  her  dead  lover's  voice i6 

"  That 's  right,  Brooke  !    Do  your  duty,  and 

the  consequences !  " 24 

The  Reverend  Jacob  Sternroyd,  D.D 34 

Caroline  Thring 62 

Mr.  Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn  at  his  ease  ....       80 

"  Let  us  sit  quite  still  and  think  hard  whether 
we  'd  like  to  meet  again  " 86 

"  She  placed  her  arm  very  tenderly  over  her 
shoulders  and  gently  called  her  by  name  "      .     114 

"  It 's  enough  to  give  a  body  the  fantoddles  —  as 
my  poor  dear  mother  used  to  say  "     .    .    .    .     132 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

To  Face  Page 
He  started  of!  like  an  alarm  clock 150 

He  seized  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  dragged  him, 
bewildered  and  protesting,  to  the  Gazebo   .    .      170 

As   the  sun  came  out,   out   came   Mr.   Jerome 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  as  resplendent  as  the  sun  .    .      176 

The  Eyesore  seized  the  animal  by  the  scruff  of 
his  neck  and  hurled  him  into  the  river  .    .    .      182 

Then  he  resumed.    "  Brooke,"  says  he,  "  Brooke, 
my  Boy  "  —  just  like  that 198 

"  Peter !  "  he  cried,  scandalised 232 


J? 


♦**»^» 


CHAPTER  I 

CONCERNING   THE 

WALK    IN    GENERAL 


IT  lies  out  Chiswick  way,  not  far  from  Horace 
Walpole's  house  where  later  Miss  Pink- 
erton  conducted  her  Academy  for  Young 
Ladies.  It  is  still  there,  although  It  was  actu- 
ally built  in  1710;  but  London  has  gradually 
stretched  its  tentacles  towards  it,  and  they  will 
soon  absorb  it.  Where  Marjolaine  and  Jack 
made  love,  there  will  be  a  row  of  blatant  shops, 
and  Sir  Peter's  house  will  be  replaced  by  a  flar- 
ing gin-palace.  It  has  fallen  from  its  high  estate 
nowadays;  and  Mrs.  Poskett's  prophecy  has 
come  true:  one  of  its  dainty  houses  —  I  think 
it  is  the  one  in  which   the  Misses  Pennymint 

I 


POMANDER     WALK 

lived  —  is  now  indeed  occupied  by  a  person  who 
earns  a  precarious  living  with  a  mangle. 

Even  in  the  days  I  am  writing  about,  it  was 
old  —  ninety-five  years  old  —  and  had  seen 
many  ups  and  downs;  for  I  am  writing  of  events 
that  took  place  in  1805:  the  year  of  Trafalgar; 
the  year  of  Nelson's  death. 

At  that  time  it  was  a  charming,  quaint  little 
crescent  of  six  very  small  red-brick  houses,  close 
to  the  Thames,  facing  due  south,  and  with  a 
beautiful  view  across  the  river. 

Why  it  was  called  Pomander  Walk  is  more 
than  I  can  tell  you.  There  is  a  tradition  that  the 
builder  had  inherited  a  beautiful  gold  pomander 
of  Venetian  filigree  and  that  the  word  struck 
him  as  being  pretty  and  having  an  old-world 
flavour  about  it.  It  certainly  conferred  a  sort  of 
quiet  dignity  on  the  crescent;  almost  too  much 
dignity,  indeed,  at  first,  for  It  seemed  to  make 
the  letting  of  the  houses  difficult.  Common 
people  fought  shy  of  it,  because  of  the  name,  yet 
the  houses  were  so  small  that  wealthy  folk  — • 
the  Quality  —  would  n't  look  at  them.  Ulti- 
mately, however,  they  were  occupied  by  gentle- 
folk In  reduced  circumstances;  people  who  had 
an  eye  for  the  picturesque,  people  who  sought 
retirement;   and  the  owner  was  happy. 

In  1805  it  had  grown  mellow  with  age.  The 
red  bricks  of  which  It  was  built  had  lost  the  crude- 
ness  of  their  original  colour  and  had  acquired  a 

2 


POMANDER     WALK 

delicious  tone  restful  to  the  eye.  Pomander 
Walk  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  prettiest  nooks 
near  London.  It  stood  —  and  stands  —  on  a 
little  plot  of  ground  projecting  into  the  river. 
At  the  upper  end  it  was  cut  off  from  the  rest  of 
the  parish  of  Chiswick  by  Pomander  Creek,  which 
ran  a  long  way  inland  and  formed  a  sort  of  refuge 
for  lazy  barges,  one  of  which  was  generally  lying 
there  with  its  great  brown  sail  hanging  loose  to 
dry.  Chiswick  Parish  Church  was  only  a  little 
way  across  the  creek,  but  In  order  to  get  to  it 
you  had  to  walk  very  nearly  a  mile  to  the  first 
bridge,  and  I  am  afraid  Sir  Peter  Antrobus  too 
often  made  that  an  excuse  for  not  attending 
more  than  two  services  on  a  Sunday. 

The  little  houses  were  built  in  the  sober  and 
staid  style  Introduced  during  the  reign  of  Her 
Gracious  Majesty  Queen  Anne  (now  deceased). 
The  architect  had  taken  a  slily  humorous  de- 
light In  making  them  miniature  copies  of  much 
more  pretentious  town  mansions.  Each  little 
house  had  its  elaborate  door  with  a  shell- 
shaped  lintel;  each  had  its  miniature  front- 
garden,  divided  from  the  road-way  by  elaborate 
iron  railings;  and  each  had  an  ornate  iron  gate 
with  link-extinguisher  complete.  You  might 
have  thought  the  houses  were  meant  to  be  in- 
habited by  very  small  Dukes,  so  stately  were 
they  in  their  tiny  way.  The  ground-floor  sitting- 
rooms  all  had  bow-windows,  and  in  each  bow- 

3 


POMANDER     WALK 

window  the  occupants  displayed  their  dearest 
treasures,  generally  under  a  glass  globe.  A 
glance  at  these  would  almost  have  been  enough 
to  tell  you  what  manner  of  people  their  owners 
were.  In  the  first,  at  the  top  corner  of  the  cres- 
cent, stood  the  model  of  a  man-of-war.  The 
second  displayed  a  silver  cup  with  the  arms  of 
the  City  of  London  carefully  turned  outward  for 
the  passer-by  to  admire  respectfully;  the  third 
showed  a  stuffed  canary;  the  fourth  was  empty 
—  I  will  tell  you  why  later;  the  fifth  presented 
a  pinchbeck  snuff-box,  and  in  the  sixth  there  was 
an  untidy  pile  of  old  books. 

In  front  of  the  crescent  lay  a  delightful  lawn, 
always  admirably  kept.  Jim,  Sir  Peter  Antro- 
bus's  man,  mowed  it  regularly  every  Saturday 
afternoon.  This  lawn  was  protected  on  the 
river-side  by  a  chain  hanging  from  white  posts. 
You  never  saw  posts  so  white  as  those  were,  for 
every  Saturday  evening  Jim  —  a  very  active 
old  sailor  in  spite  of  his  stiff  leg  —  gave  them  a 
fresh  coat  of  paint;  he  even  went  so  far  as  to 
paint  the  chain  as  well. 

In  the  lower  corner  of  the  lawn,  and  facing  the 
bend  of  the  river,  stood  what  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Walk  called  the  Gazebo,  a  little  shelter  formed 
by  a  well-trimmed  boxwood  hedge,  in  which  was 
a  rustic  seat.  Sir  Peter  Antrobus  and  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  would  sit  there  on  warm  summer 
evenings  and  discuss  the  news  of  the  day  —  or, 

4 


r 


.^^^ 


■  it"  ~ 


Jim, —  A  VERY  ACTIVE  Old  Sailor  in  simte  ok  his 
Stiff  Leg 


POMANDER  WALK 

let  me  rather  say  —  the  news  of  the  day  before 
yesterday;  for  the  only  journal  they  saw  was  a 
three  days  old  "Globe"  which  Sir  Peter's  cousin 
sent  him  when  he  had  done  with  it,  and  when  he 
thought  of  it. 

The  great  charm  of  the  Gazebo  was  that  it  was 
sufficiently  removed  from  the  houses  to  ensure 
strict  privacy:  the  ladies  of  the  Walk,  who  shared 
fully  in  their  sex's  attribute  of  curiosity,  could 
neither  see  nor  hear  what  went  on  in  its  seclusion, 
and  Sir  Peter,  who  thought  he  was  a  woman- 
hater,  was  all  the  more  fond  of  it  on  that  account. 
In  his  own  house  he  really  could  not  talk  at  his 
ease,  for  his  voice  had,  by  long  struggles  against 
gales,  acquired  a  tremendous  carrying  power; 
the  party-wall  was  very  thin,  and  his  next-door 
neighbour,  Mrs.  Poskett,  was  —  or,  at  least,  so 
he  imagined  —  always  listening. 

But  the  pride  of  the  Walk  was  a  great  elm-tree 
standing  in  the  centre  of  the  lawn,  and  shading 
it  delightfully.  A  very  ancient  tree,  much  older 
than  the  Walk:  indeed,  the  crescent  had,  in  a 
manner  of  speaking,  been  built  round  it.  At  its 
base  Jim  —  there  was  really  no  limit  to  the 
things  Jim  could  do  —  had  built  a  comfortable 
seat  which  encircled  its  trunk,  and  this  seat 
was  the  special  prerogative  of  the  ladies  of  the 
Walk  when  it  was  not  occupied  by  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn's  numerous  progeny. 

I  think  I  have  told  you  all  that  is  necessary 

S 


POMANDER     WALK 

about  the  external  features  of  the  Walk.  You 
must  see  it  with  sympathetic  eyes,  if  you  are  not 
to  laugh  at  it:  a  little  crescent  of  six  very  small 
old  red-brick  houses;  in  front  of  them,  six  tiny 
gardens  full  at  all  seasons  of  the  year  of  bright 
old-fashioned  flowers;  then  the  highly  orna- 
mental railings  and  stately  gates;  then  a  red- 
brick pavement,  or  side-walk;  then  a  broad 
path;  and  then  the  lawn,  the  elm-tree,  and  the 
Gazebo.  Beyond  this,  the  Thames,  bearing 
great  brown  barges  up  to  Richmond  or  down  to 
Chelsea,  according  to  the  state  of  the  tide;  and 
the  Parish  Church  of  Chiswick,  half  buried  in 
the  foliage  of  stately  trees,  as  a  fitting  back- 
ground. 

You  could  not  find  a  quieter,  more  peaceful,  or 
more  forgotten  spot  near  London  in  a  month's 
search;  for  the  only  way  into  the  Walk  was 
along  a  very  narrow  path  by  the  side  of  Poman- 
der Creek:  a  path  the  children  of  Chiswick  had 
been  sternly  forbidden  to  use,  and  which  even 
their  elders  only  attempted  when  they  were  more 
than  usually  sober,  for  fear  of  falling  into  the 
creek.  So,  although  the  Walk  was  nominally 
open  to  the  public,  it  was  not  a  thoroughfare, 
as  you  had  to  go  out  the  same  way  as  you  went  in. 
Strangers  very  seldom  found  their  way  to  its 
precincts,  and  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the 
lawn  and  the  Gazebo  had  grown  to  be  the  private 
property  of  the  inhabitants.    As  their  rooms  were 

6 


POMANDER     WALK 

extremely  small,  they  made  the  lawn  a  sort  of 
common  drawing-room,  where  they  entertained 
each  other  in  a  modest  way  with  a  dish  of  tea. 
After  Mr.  Basil  Pringle  and  Madame  Lachesnais 
and  her  daughter  had  come  to  live  in  the  Walk 
there  would  even  be  music  on  the  lawn.  Madame 
would  bring  out  her  harp,  Mr.  Pringle  his  violin, 
and  Marjolaine  would  sing  quaint  old  French 
ditties. 

I  pity  the  unhappy  stranger  who  stumbled 
into  the  Walk  on  such  an  occasion.  The  music 
would  stop  dead.  Teacups  would  hang  sus- 
pended half-way  to  expectant  lips,  and  all  eyes 
would  be  turned  on  the  intruder  with  a  stare 
which,  if  he  had  any  marrow,  would  infallibly 
freeze  it.  Then  to  see  Sir  Peter  throw  his  chest 
out,  march  up  to  the  stranger  and  ask  him  what 
he  wanted  in  a  voice  which  masked  a  volcanic 
rage  under  courteous  tones,  was  to  behold  a 
thing  never  to  be  forgotten.  All  the  stranger 
could  do  was  to  stammer  an  apology  and  beat 
a  retreat;  but  for  days  the  memory  of  the  un- 
known danger  he  had  escaped  would  haunt  him. 

Sir  Peter  Antrobus  —  Admiral  Sir  Peter  Antro- 
bus  —  was  not  a  person  to  be  trifled  with,  I 
assure  you.  In  the  first  place,  he  lived  in  the 
corner  house  as  you  entered  the  Walk.  This 
gave  him  a  sort  of  prescriptive  right  to  sover- 
eignty. You  must  also  consider  that  he  was  an 
Admiral  and  that  his  gallantry  had  earned  him 

7 


POMANDER  WALK 

a  knighthood.  He  was,  indeed,  the  only  speci- 
men of  actual  nobility  the  Walk  had  to  show, 
though  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  could,  by  much 
pressure,  be  induced  to  admit,  that  if  everyone 
had  his  rights  and  If  lawyers  were  not  such 
scoundrels,  he  himself  —  but  he  always  broke 
off  there  and  left  you  wondering  what  degree  of 
the  peerage  he  had  claims  to.  But  Sir  Peter  was 
undoubtedly  a  knight,  and  his  title  gave  him  the 
pas  in  all  the  Walk's  social  functions.  Not  only 
that,  but  the  Walk  looked  up  to  him  as  its 
natural  leader  and  adviser.  None  of  the  inhab- 
itants would  ever  dream  of  making  any  little  im- 
provements to  their  houses  without  having  first 
consulted  the  Admiral.  It  was  he  who  deter- 
mined when  the  lawn  needed  mowing,  the  Gazebo 
trimming,  and  it  was  he  who  fixed  the  date  for 
painting  the  wood-work  and  railings  of  the 
houses.  Also,  he  chose  the  colour:  a  good,  use- 
ful green;  and  anyone  who  had  dared  depart 
from  the  precise  shade  chosen  by  him,  would 
have  heard  of  it.  He  was  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses an  autocrat,  and  the  Walk  trembled  at 
his  nod.  His  rule  was  very  gentle,  however. 
He  kept  his  one  remaining  eye  steadily  fixed  on 
the  Walk;  but  although  it  wore  a  threatening 
frown  and  could  flash  in  fury,  the  expression 
lurking  in  its  depth  was  one  of  alrectlon.  He 
loved  the  Walk  with  all  his  heart;  he  was  proud 
of  it  with  all  his  soul.     His  one  ambition  was  to 

8 


POMANDER     WALK 

keep  it  as  spick  and  span  as  his  own  quarter- 
deck had  been.  I  think,  indeed,  he  confused  it 
in  his  mind  to  some  extent  with  that  quarter- 
deck, for  in  his  little  garden  he  had  erected  the 
model  of  a  mast,  on  which  he  hoisted  the  Union 
Jack  with  his  own  hands  regularly  at  sunrise, 
and  as  regularly  struck  it  at  sunset.  And  once, 
when  the  Regent  had  gone  by  in  the  Royal 
barge  on  his  way  to  Richmond,  he  had  come  out 
in  gala  uniform  and  dipped  it  in  a  Royal  salute 
in  the  finest  style.  The  Admiral  was  salt  from 
head  to  foot  and  right  through.  He  used  to  call 
himself  a  piece  of  salt  junk:  for  he  had  been  at 
sea  ever  since  he  was  a  lad  of  ten.  His  bravery 
and  high  spirits  had  cleared  the  road  for  him  at  a 
time  when  the  sea  was  a  path  of  glory  for  British 
mariners,  and  his  culminating  recollection  was 
the  battle  of  Copenhagen,  in  which  he  had  taken 
part  with  Nelson.  His  only  cause  for  complaint 
was  that  he  had  been  put  on  half-pay  too  early. 
Was  not  a  man  of  sixty,  hale,  hearty,  and  in  the 
full  possession  of  all  his  faculties,  worth  two 
whipper-snappers  of  thirty.^  And  did  the  loss  of 
an  eye  disqualify  him.''  Could  he  not  spy  the 
enemy  as  quickly  with  one  eye  as  with  two.''  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  you  could  only  use  one  eye  with 
a  spy-glass,  and  so,  what  was  the  good  of  the 
other.?    Answer  him  that!    Very  well,  then. 

But  these  outbursts  only  came  in  moments  of 
great   depression;    generally   after   his   monthly 

9 


POMANDER    WALK 

excursion  into  town  to  draw  his  pay.  On  these 
occasions  it  was  his  habit  to  visit  the  coffee- 
houses where  sea-captains  of  his  own  standing 
congregated;  in  the  afternoon  he  would  dine 
with  a  few  cronies  at  the  Hummums;  later,  he 
might  take  a  taste  of  the  newest  play  at  Covent 
Garden  —  he  maintained  that  the  Drama,  like 
the  Navy,  was  going  to  the  dogs  —  and  after  the 
play  there  usually  followed  a  jorum  of  punch 
and  a  church-warden  pipe  in  some  hostelry 
where  glees  were  sung.  Then,  in  the  small  hours, 
he  would  be  lifted  into  an  old,  ramshackle  shay, 
by  the  faithful  Jim;  Jim  would  be  lifted  beside 
him,  and  together  they  would  steer  a  devious 
course  towards  Chiswick,  where  the  village  con- 
stable was  on  the  look-out  for  them,  and  would 
pilot  them  along  the  perilous  Creek,  unlock  the 
door  for  them,  and  deposit  them  safely  in  the 
passage.  What  happened  after  that,  which 
saw  the  other  to  bed,  or  whether  either  of  them 
ever  got  beyond  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  it  were 
the  height  of  indiscretion  to  enquire.  An  Eng- 
lish gentleman's  house  is  his  castle,  and  if  an 
English  gentleman  is  too  tired  to  go  upstairs 
that  is  nobody's  business  but  his  own. 

The  Walk  was  always  aware  of  these  excur- 
sions, and  on  the  mornings  following  upon  them 
it  had  become  the  rule  to  make  as  little  noise  as 
possible,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  Admiral's 
repose.    When  he  ultimately  woke  on  such  morn- 

10 


POMANDER  WALK 

ings  it  was  small  wonder  he  took  a  jaundiced 
view  of  life,  prophesied  the  immediate  stranding 
of  His  Majesty's  entire  Fleet  owing  to  puerile 
navigation,  and  was,  generally,  in  his  least 
amiable  and  least  hopeful  mood.  Small  wonder, 
also,  that  he  railed  against  a  purblind  and  imbe- 
cile government  for  putting  a  seasoned  officer  on 
the  shelf.  A  headache  modifies  one's  outlook, 
and,  as  Mrs.  Poskett  was  fond  of  saying,  one 
should  be  especially  considerate  with  a  man, 
more  especially  a  sailor-man,  the  day  after  he 
had  drawn  his  pay  —  most  especially  a  sailor- 
man  who,  at  the  mature  age  of  sixty,  was  still  a 
bachelor. 

If  Sir  Peter  was  a  bachelor,  that  was  not  Mrs. 
Poskett's  fault.  She  herself  had  only  narrowly 
missed  belonging  to  the  minor  nobility.  Alder- 
man Poskett,  her  deceased  husband,  had  died 
just  as  he  was  ripe  for  the  Shrievalty,  and,  sure 
enough,  the  year  he  would  have  been  Sheriff  the 
King  had  dined  with  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  Pos- 
kett would  infallibly  have  received  a  knighthood, 
had  he  been  alive.  Mrs.  Poskett  felt,  in  a  con- 
fused way,  that  she  had  been  badly  used,  and 
that  the  Walk  would  only  be  stretching  ordinary 
courtesy  very  slightly  by  addressing  her  as  Lady 
Poskett.  Unfortunately  this  never  occurred  to 
the  Walk,  and  as  Mrs.  Poskett  was  determined 
to  achieve  the  title  somehow,  she  had  cast  her 
eyes  on  Sir  Peter.    The  latter,  however,  had  not 

II 


POMANDER     WALK 

been  a  handsome  midshipman,  and  a  still  hand- 
somer Captain,  without  acquiring  considerable 
experience  in  the  wiles  of  the  sex,  and,  so  far, 
Mrs.  Poskett's  blandishments  had  met  with 
only  negative  success.  Mrs.  Poskett  lived  next 
door  to  the  Admiral,  and  to  her  great  distress 
there  was  a  sort  of  subdued  feud  between  them; 
a  feud  she  could  do  nothing  to  abate.  Could 
she  be  expected  to  get  rid  of  Sempronius,  for  the 
sake  of  Sir  Peter.''  In  the  first  place,  it  is  not  so 
easy  to  get  rid  of  a  long-haired,  yellow  Persian 
cat.  Once,  in  a  fit  of  desperation  at  the  failure 
of  her  siege  on  the  Admiral's  affections,  she  had 
put  Sempronius  in  a  market-basket,  and  she  and 
Abigail  —  her  little  maid,  fresh  from  a  Charity 
School  —  had  carried  him  quite  half  a  mile  and 
let  him  loose,  after  a  tragic  farewell,  in  the  middle 
of  a  cabbage-field.  But  when  they  got  home 
disconsolate,  there  was  Sempronius  washing  his 
face  in  front  of  the  fire  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. After  that  there  was  never  again  any 
question  of  getting  rid  of  him.  If  the  Admiral 
really  feared  for  the  safety  of  his  thrush,  why 
did  n't  he  get  rid  of  the  thrush.''  Only  once  had 
Sempronius  been  found  sitting  on  the  roof  of  the 
osier  cage,  and  extending  a  soft  paw  downwards 
through  its  bars;  the  thrush  was  singing  blithely 
all  the  time,  and  you  could  see  by  the  expression 
on  Sempronlus's  face  that  his  only  feeling  was 
one  of  admiration  for  the  song.    But  the  Admiral 

12 


POMANDER     WALK 

had  taken  on  amazingly,  had  stormed  and  sworn, 
and  promised  to  throw  Sempronius  into  the 
river  if  he  ever  caught  him  at  such  games  again. 

Since  that  day  Mrs.  Poskett  had  felt  that  she 
had  a  very  uphill  task  before  her;  but  she  had 
set  herself  to  work  to  become  Lady  Antrobus 
with  increased  determination.  She  was  heartily 
encouraged  in  this  by  Miss  Ruth  Pennymint, 
who  lived  in  the  third  house  from  the  top  corner 
—  lived  there  with  her  much  younger  sister, 
Miss  Barbara. 

Miss  Ruth,  elderly  and  kind  hearted,  was  an 
inveterate  matchmaker.  As  she  explained  to 
her  bosom  friend,  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  "My 
dear,"  she  said,  "I've  lived  three  years  with  a 
tragic  instance  of  what  comes  of  blighted  affec- 
tions; and  I'll  take  precious  good  care  nobody 
else's  affections  get  blighted  if  I  can  help  it." 
To  which  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn  replied,  "And 
well  I  understand  your  meaning,  Ruth;  for  if 
Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had  n't  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  what  I  should  ha'  done  I  don't  know." 
Whereupon  the  two  ladies,  for  no  obvious  reason, 
wept  together  and  were  greatly  comforted. 

It  seems  that  Miss  Barbara  had  years  ago  been 
more  or  less  affianced  to  a  Lieutenant  in  the 
Navy.  Not  a  young  lieutenant,  an  elderly  lieu- 
tenant with  several  characteristics  which  were 
doubtful  recommendations.  But  time  had  soft- 
ened the  image  of  the  gallant  tar  in  Miss  Bar- 

13 


POMANDER     WALK 

bara's  recollection,  and  the  more  it  receded,  the 
more  romantic  it  had  become,  until  now  she  was, 
not  so  much  in  love  with  her  recollections  of 
him,  as  with  what  she  could  remember  of  the 
ideal  she  had  set  up  in  her  own  mind. 

In  the  flesh,  Lieutenant  Charles  —  no  one  had 
ever  heard  his  surname  —  had  been  a  very  short, 
puffy  man,  with  a  completely  bald  head.  His 
language  was  interlarded  with  expletives,  suit- 
able, perhaps,  to  intercourse  with  rough  sailors 
in  a  gale,  but  devastating  on  shore  in  the  company 
of  ladies.  Personally,  I  am  not  at  all  certain  he 
had  ever  actually  proposed  to  Miss  Barbara.  I 
don't  believe  he  knew  how. 

The  two  ladies  were  living  near  the  Docks  at 
the  time,  with  their  father,  who  was  something 
In  linseed;  and  I  have  no  doubt  Lieutenant 
Charles  found  the  old  man's  Port-wine  agreeable 
and  liked  to  bask  in  Miss  Barbara's  pretty  smiles. 
For  Miss  Barbara  was  very  pretty  indeed;  a 
bonny,  plump  little  thing,  by  nature  all  mirth 
and  laughter.  She  did  not  so  much  walk  as  hop 
like  a  little  bird.  She  was  altogether  like  a 
bird.  Her  father  had  always  called  her  his 
dicky-bird.  She  kissed  just  as  a  bird  pecks,  and 
when  she  spoke  or  laughed,  it  was  exactly  like  the 
twitter  of  birds  settling  down  to  sleep  at  sunset. 

Whether  she  had  ever  really  been  in  love  with 
the  lieutenant  is  another  question  I  must  leave 
unanswered.     It  is  only  barely  conceivable.    To 

14 


POMANDER     WALK 

be  sure,  girls  do  fall  in  love  with  the  most  im- 
probable men:  even  short  and  puffy  ones;  and 
perhaps  the  lieutenant's  strange  oaths  bewitched 
her  in  some  inexplicable  way.  The  only  evidence 
of  practical  romance  I  can  bring  forward,  is  that 
the  lieutenant  did  undoubtedly  present  Miss 
Barbara  on  one  of  his  home-comings  from  dis- 
tant parts  with  a  grey  parrot  with  a  red  tail. 
To  be  sure,  he  may  have  found  the  bird  an 
intolerable  nuisance;  but  this  is  an  ill-natured 
suggestion.  Whether  this  gift  was  intended  as  a 
hint,  whether  the  parrot  was  meant  as  a  dove 
and  harbinger  of  a  coming  proposal,  or  whether 
it  was  an  economical  return  for  much  liquid 
refreshment,  the  world  will  never  know,  for  the 
same  night  the  lieutenant's  inglorious  career 
came  to  an  equally  inglorious  end. 

This  combination  of  what  might,  with  a  little 
violence,  be  construed  as  a  lover's  gift  with  the 
tragic  loss  of  the  lover,  was  the  turning-point 
in  Miss  Barbara's  life.  Henceforth  she  convinced 
herself  that  she  had  been  engaged  to  marry 
Charles,  and  she  vowed  herself  to  perpetual 
spinsterhood  and  the  care  of  the  parrot. 

The  care  of  the  parrot  was  no  such  easy 
matter.  The  bird  had  made  a  long  journey  in 
the  lieutenant's  cabin,  and  had  acquired  all  the 
lieutenant's  most  picturesque  expressions.  He 
was  not,  therefore,  a  bird  you  could  admit  into 
general  society  with  any  feeling  of  comfort,  for 

15 


POMANDER     WALK 

although  he  was  generally  sulky  in  the  presence 
of  strangers,  he  would  occasionally,  and  when 
you  least  expected  them,  rap  out  a  string  of  un- 
complimentary references  to  their  personal  ap- 
pearance, and  consign  them,  body  and  soul, 
to  unmentionable  localities,  with  a  clearness  of 
utterance  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  his  meaning. 

When  Papa  Pennymint  died,  it  was  found  that 
linseed  had  not  been  a  commodity  for  which  the 
demand  had  been  sufficient  to  build  up  anything 
approaching  a  fortune.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
the  old  man  had  died  just  in  time  to  avoid 
bankruptcy,  and  the  two  ladies  had  been  obliged 
to  sell  their  pretty  home  and  to  take  refuge  in 
Pomander  Walk,  out  of  reach  of  the  genteel 
friends  who  had  known  them  in  the  days  of  their 
prosperity.  Of  course  the  bird  had  come  with 
them;  but  he  had  not  left  his  language  behind, 
and  Barbara  was  forced  to  keep  him  shut  up  in 
the  little  back  parlour,  out  of  earshot.  There 
she  spent  at  least  one  hour  with  him  every  day, 
listening,  as  she  told  the  sympathising  Walk, 
to  her  dead  lover's  voice;  and  it  was  this  con- 
stant companionship  with  the  loquacious  bird 
which  had  fostered  and  developed  in  her  mind 
the  legend  of  her  unhappy  love. 

As  a  detail,  I  may  as  well  add  here  that  Barbara 
had  christened  the  parrot  Doctor  Johnson,  in 
honour  of  the  mighty  lexicographer,  about 
whom  she  knew  nothing  except  that  an  engraved 

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O 

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&  s 


POMANDER  WALK 

portrait  of  him  used  to  hang  in  what  her  father 
called  his  study,  and  that  when  she  asked  him 
who  the  original  was  and  what  he  had  done,  he 
said,  ''Oh,  I  don't  know.  Seems  he  talked  a 
lot."  The  parrot  talked  a  lot,  and  so  he  was 
called  Doctor  Johnson.  I  should  very  much 
have  liked  to  hear  the  observations  the  Giant 
of  Fleet  Street  would  have  made,  had  he  lived 
long  enough  to  be  aware  of  the  compliment. 

How  the  Misses  Pennymint  made  both  ends 
meet  was  a  never-ending  subject  of  discussion 
between  Mrs.  Poskett  and  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
They  regretfully  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  two  ladies  positively  worked  for  their  living. 
This  was  a  serious  aspersion  on  the  Walk  —  but 
there  was  a  worse  one. 

A  little  while  ago  a  young  man  —  well,  a 
youngish  man  — with  one  shoulder  a  little  higher 
than  the  other,  had  come  to  live  with  the  Penny- 
mints.  At  first  they  let  it  be  understood  that  he 
was  a  distant  cousin  come  on  a  visit;  but  when 
weeks  passed  and  then  months,  he  could  no 
longer  be  described  as  a  visitor,  and  the  Walk 
had  to  face  the  fact  that  not  only  did  the  Misses 
Pennymint  work  for  their  living,  but  that  they 
also  kept  a  lodger.  At  first  the  Walk  was  con- 
soled with  the  Idea  that  at  any  rate  he  looked 
like  a  gentleman,  and  might  possibly  be  one. 
But  lately  it  had  been  discovered  that  he  was  a 
mere  common  fiddler,  and  played  every  evening 

17 


POMANDER  WALK 

in  the  orchestra  at  Vauxhall  Gardens.  Yet,  in 
spite  of  his  ungentlemanly  profession,  the  man 
did,  undoubtedly,  behave  Hke  a  gentleman. 
Moreover,  it  was  very  difficult  to  tax  the  Misses 
Penny  mint  with  their  ungenteel  goings-on;  be- 
cause there  was  not  an  inhabitant  of  the  Walk 
who  had  not  experienced  some  kindness  at  their 
hands. 

I  hope  I  have  conveyed  the  impression  of  a 
quiet  and  contented  little  community.  I  am 
sorry  to  have  to  add  that  there  was  one  fly  in 
the  amber  of  their  content.  In  the  early  spring 
of  1805  a  mysterious  figure  had  suddenly  ap- 
peared in  the  Walk.  A  fisherman.  A  gaunt 
creature  in  an  indescribable  slouch  hat:  the  sort 
of  hat  you  do  not  pick  up  when  you  see  it  lying 
in  the  road;  his  bony  form  was  encased  in  a  long, 
nondescript  linen  garment,  something  like  a  car- 
ter's smock-frock.  This  had  once  been  white, 
but  was  now  of  every  shade  of  brown.  It 
had  enormous  pockets,  bulging  with  unthinkable 
contents.  One  morning  the  Walk  had  awakened 
to  find  him  sitting  at  the  corner  where  Pomander 
Creek  empties  into  the  Thames;  sitting  on  an 
old  box,  with  a  dreadful  tin  vessel  full  of  worms 
at  his  side;  sitting  fishing.  The  Walk  rubbed 
its  eyes  and  wondered  what  the  Admiral  would 
say.  When  the  Admiral  came  out  of  his  house 
he  stopped  aghast.  Then  he  gathered  himself  to- 
gether for  a  mighty  effort.     But  it  came  to  noth- 

18 


POMANDER  WALK 

ing:  you  cannot  argue  with  a  man  who  refuses 
to  argue  back.  The  fisherman  met  Sir  Peter's 
first  onslaught  with  a  curt  "PubHc  thorough- 
fare," and  then  definitely  closed  his  lips.  Sir 
Peter  raked  him  fore  and  aft,  but  never  got 
another  syllable  out  of  him.  Ultimately  he 
retired  baffled  and  beaten.  Henceforward  the 
fisherman  came  to  his  pitch  every  day,  except 
Sunday.  The  Walk  grew  accustomed,  if  not 
reconciled,  to  his  presence  by  slow  degrees.  They 
spoke  of  him  among  themselves  as  the  Eyesore, 


19 


~^>    CHAPTER   II 


HOW   SIR  PETER  ANTROBUS  AND  JEROME  BROOKE- 
HOSKYN,  ESQUIRE,  SMOKED  A  PIPE  TOGETHER 

ON  Saturday  afternoon,  May  25,  1805, 
Pomander  Walk  was  looking  its  very 
best.  The  sun  transfigured  the  old 
houses;  the  elm  rustled  in  the  river-breeze;  the 
Admiral's  thrush  was  singing  wistfully;  Mrs. 
Poskett's  cat,  Sempronius,  was  seated  in  her 
little  front  garden,  wistfully  listening  to  the  bird's 
song;  the  Eyesore  was  patiently  wasting  worms 
on  discriminating  fish  who  knew  a  hook  when 
they  saw  it;  and  Sir  Peter  Antrobus  and  Mr, 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  both  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  were 
finishing  a  game  of  quoits. 

20 


POMANDER     WALK 

"A  ringer!"  shouted  Sir  Peter,  whose  quoit  had 
fallen  fairly  over  the  peg.  Then  he  hurried  up 
to  the  quoits,  and,  measuring  their  respective 
distances  from  it  with  a  huge  bandana  handker- 
chief, added,  "One  maiden  to  you,  Brooke! 
Game  all!     Peeled,  by  Jehoshaphat!" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  flicked  the  dust  off  his 
waistcoat  with  magnificent  indifference.  The 
Admiral  produced  a  boatswain's  whistle,  and  in 
answer  to  a  blast,  his  man,  Jim,  appeared  at  an 
upstair   window.      "Ay,    ay.   Admiral!" 

"The  usual.  Here,  under  the  elm.  And 
look  lively." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!" 

Jim  disappeared  like  a  Jack-in-the-box.  "We 
must  play  it  off,"  said  Sir  Peter. 

But  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  protested.  "An- 
other time,  Sir  Peter.  It  is  very  warm,  and  my 
eye  is  out." 

"  So  's  mine,"  cried  the  Admiral,  with  a  guffaw; 
"but  I  see  straight,  what.^" 

It  was  a  matter  of  principle  with  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  never  to  take  the  slightest  notice  of 
the  Admiral's  jokes.  Sir  Peter  might  be  the 
autocrat  of  the  Walk,  although  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  had  his  own  views  even  on  that  point; 
but  he  himself  was  the  acknowledged  wit  and 
man  of  fashion,  and  from  that  position  nothing 
should  shake  him.  He  had  spied  Miss  Ruth 
Pennymint  working  in  her  open   bow-window, 

21 


POMANDER  WALK 

and  Mrs.  Poskett  busy  with  her  flowers.  Assum- 
ing his  grandest  manner,  he  said  warningly: 
"Should  we  not  resume  our  habiliments.^  The 
fair  are  observing  us." 

"Gobblessmysoul!"  cried  Sir  Peter,  shocked 
at  being  discovered  in  undress.  They  hastily 
helped  each  other  into  their  coats,  which  were 
lying  on  the  bench  under  the  elm.  Meanwhile, 
Jim  had  brought  out  a  tray  with  two  pewters, 
two  long  clay  pipes,  a  jar  of  tobacco  and  a 
lighted  candle,  and  had  placed  it  on  the  bench. 
From  the  open  upstair  window  of  the  Penny- 
mint's  house  came  the  strains  of  a  violin:  one 
passage,  played  over  and  over  again,  with  vary- 
ing degrees  of  success. 

"Wish  Mr.  Pringle  would  stop  his  infernal 
scraping,"  growled  the  Admiral. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  shrugged  his  shoulders 
with  condescending  pity.  "Poor  fellow!  What 
a  way  of  earning  his  living!" 

Sir  Peter  turned  to  the  quarter  from  which 
the  music  came,  and,  making  a  speaking-trumpet 
of  his  hands,  roared,  "Mr.  Pringle!  Mr.  Pringle, 
ahoy!" 

A  hideous  wrong  note,  as  if  the  player  had 
been  scared  out  of  his  wits,  was  the  answer,  and 
Basil  Pringle  appeared  at  the  window.  "I  beg 
your  pardon,  Admiral;  I  was  engrossed.'* 

"Join  us  under  the  elm,  what.?" 

"With  pleasure.  I  '11  just  put  away  my  Strad." 

22 


POMANDER  WALK 

As;BasIl  retired  Sir  Peter  turned  to  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn.     "His  what?" 

"His  Stradivarius,"  answered  the  latter, 
and  as  that  obviously  conveyed  no  meaning, 
"his  violin." 

"Oh!  His  fiddle!  Why  could  n't  he  say  so.? 
-Jim!" 

■Ay,  ay,  sir!" 
'Another  pewter." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir."  Jim  hobbled  off  into  the 
Admiral's  house  and  Sir  Peter  and  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  stood,  facing  each  other,  each  grasping 
his  pewter  of  foaming  ale. 

"Well!"  cried  Sir  Peter,  "The  King!" 

But  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  not  to  be  put 
off  with  so  curt  a  toast.  Planting  his  feet  firmly 
together,  and  throwing  his  chest  out,  he  boomed 
in  a  formal  and  stately  manner,  "His  Most 
Gracious  Majesty,  King  George  the  Third,  God 
bless  him!" 

The  Admiral  eyed  him  curiously  for  a  moment, 
and  seemed  about  to  speak,  but  thought  better 
of  it;  and  for  an  appreciable  time  the  faces  of 
both  gentlemen  were  hidden.  When  they  came 
to  light  again  it  was  with  a  great  sigh  of  satis- 
faction, and  they  both  settled  down  on  the 
bench  for  quiet  enjoyment. 

"Now!"  cried  Sir  Peter,  "a  pipe  of  tobacco 
with  you,  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  .f"' 

"Delighted!" 

23 


POMANDER     WALK 

*'St.  Vincent.  Prime  stuff:  and  —  in  your 
ear  —  smuggled! " 

"No!  — reely?" 

The  two  men  leant  over  the  candle  and  lighted 
their  pipes  with  artistic  care. 

"Was  you  at  a  banquet  again  last  night, 
Brooke.?"  asked  the  Admiral,  during  this 
process. 

"  Yes — yes,"  replied  the  other,  with  splendidJin- 
difference.     "The  Guildhall.    All  the  hote  tonn." 

"  Lucky  dog,"  said  Sir  Peter,  smacking  his 
lips:  "turtle,  eh.?" 

With  the  air  of  a  man  jaded  by  too  much 
enjoyment  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  condescended 
to  enlarge.  "As  usual.  Believe  me,  personally 
I  should  much  prefer  seclusion  and  meditation 
in  the  company  of  poets  and  philosophers,  or 
dallying  with  Selina;  but  my  friends  are  good 
enough  to  insist.  Only  last  night,"  with  a  side 
glance  to  watch  the  effect  he  was  producing, 
"Fox  —  my  good  friend,  the  Right  Honourable 
Charles  James  Fox  —  said,  'Brooke,  my  boy' 
—  just  like  that  —  'Brooke,  my  boy,  what 
would  our  banquets  be  without  you.?'  " 

Sir  Peter  was  deeply  impressed.  He  felt 
himself  in  touch  with  the  great  world.  "Gob- 
blessmysoul ! "  he  cried.  "  What 's  your  average .? " 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  usually  have  to  wrench 
myself  away  from  my  precious  Selina  four  nights 
a  week." 

24 


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as  — 

P  g 

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W  Z 

o  " 

2  w 


o 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Think  o'  that,  now!  — By  the  way,  how  is 
she?" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  turned  his  lack-lustre 
eyes  fondly  towards  his  house.  "  Selina?  Cheer- 
ful, sir.  Selina  is  faint  but  pursuing.  We  have 
now  been  in  the  holy  state  of  matrimony  five 
years,  and  never  a  word  of  complaint  has  fallen 
from  the  dear  soul's  lips." 

"Re-markable!  And  all  that  time  Pomander 
Walk  has  seen  scarcely  anything  of  her." 

"  She  has  been  much  occupied  —  much  oc- 
cupied," put  in  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  with  a 
deprecatory  flourish  of  his  pipe.  And,  as  if  in 
corroboration  of  his  statement,  the  door  of  his 
house  opened  and  a  pretty  maidservant  came 
out,  carrying  a  year-old  baby  in  her  arms. 
"Chcklchck!"    said    Mr.    Brooke-Hoskyn. 

"Four  olive-branches  in  five  years!"  cried 
Sir  Peter,  instinctively  sidling  away  from  the 
baby. 

"Of  the  female  sex,"  explained  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  :  "  all  of  the  female  sex.  This  is  Number 
Four.     Chck!  chck!" 

Mrs.  Poskett,  attracted  by  the  baby,  had 
hastily  come  out  of  her  door  carrying  her  cat, 
Sempronius,  in  her  arms,  and  was  beckoning 
to  the  maid. 

"And  another  coming!"  roared  the  Admiral. 
"That's  right,  Brooke!  Do  your  duty,  and 
damn  the  consequences!  —  But  let 's  have  a  boy 

25 


POMANDER  WALK 

next  time,"  he  went  on,  heedless  of  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn's  frantic  signals,  "let 's  have  a  boy,  and 
make  a  sailor  of  him!  —  Gobblessmysoul!"  For 
Mrs.  Poskett,  having  dropped  the  cat  in  the 
garden,  had  come  up  to  the  tree,  and  was  simper- 
ing with  pretty  modesty. 

"  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen,"  said  she.  "  Oh 
—  don't  put  your  pipes  away,  please.  I  have 
been  well  trained.  Alderman  Poskett  smoked 
even  indoors.  May  I  sit  down?"  She  planted 
herself  between  the  two  men.  "Now,  go  on 
talking,  just  as  though  I  was  n't  here." 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  Fortunately 
at  this  moment  Jim  created  a  diversion  by 
bringing  the  third  pewter.  To  his  amazement 
Mrs.  Poskett  promptly  seized  it.  "For  me.'* 
How  thoughtful  of  you!"  she  cried;  and  while 
Sir  Peter  and  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  looked  on 
too  much  astonished  to  speak,  she  drained  it 
as  to  the  manner  born. 

"Jim,  another,"  grunted  the  Admiral. 

But  Mrs.  Poskett  protested.  "Oh,  no,  I 
could  n't!     Reely  and  posivitely  I  could  n't!" 

"We  was  expecting  Mr.  Pringle,  ma'am," 
said  the  Admiral,  stiffly. 

But  the  hint  was  entirely  lost.  "Ah,  poor  Mr. 
Pringle!  Poor  fellow!  An  unhappy  life,  I  fear; 
and  him  with  one  shoulder  higher  than  the 
other.  Not  that  you  notice  it  much  when  you 
look  at  him  sideways.     There.     I   was   rather 

26 


POMANDER  WALK 

alarmed  when  he  arrived  a  month  ago.  Can't 
be  too  careful,  and  me  a  lone  woman.  A  musician, 
you  know.  One  never  knows  what  their  morals 
may  be." 

"Hoho!"  shouted  Sir  Peter,  "he's  quiet 
enough  —  except  when  he's  making  a  noise!" 

Mrs.  Poskett  looked  puzzled.  She  never 
could  see  a  joke. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  received  it  with  his 
customary  stony  stare  and  at  once  broke  in. 
"He  is  some  sort  of  cousin  to  the  Misses  Penny- 
mint,  I  am  told?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  with  a  sniff,  "we 
are  told.  But  who  knows .''  —  I  fear  — "  she  sank 
her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper  —  "I  fear  he 
is  —  hush !  —  a  lodger! " 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  genuinely  shocked. 
"You  don't  say  so!" 

The  Admiral  began  to  gro^y  uncomfortable. 
He  hated  tittle-tattle.  "Where's  that  cat  of 
yours,  ma'am  .^"  he  cried,  with  sudden  suspicion. 

"Sempronius.^  The  dear  thing  is  so  happy. 
He  's  in  the  front  garden,  listening  to  your  dear 
thrush." 

"By  Jehoshaphat!"  cried  the  Admiral,  half 
rising. 

"Oh,  don't  be  alarmed!  Sempronius  adores 
him.     He  would  n't  touch  a  hair  of  his  head." 

"I  warn  you,  ma'am,"  growled  Sir  Peter, 
reluctantly  sinking  back  into  his   seat,   "if  he 

27 


IPOMANDER     WALK 

does,  I  '11  wing  him."  From  which  you  might 
gather  the  speakers  thought  that  thrushes  had 
hair  and  cats  wings. 

Now  Basil  Pringle,  who  had  carefully  laid  his 
famous  Strad  in  its  case  and  covered  it  with  a 
magnificent  silk  handkerchief,  joined  the  little 
group  under  the  elm.  He  was  —  apart  from  a 
very  slight  malformation  of  one  shoulder  —  a 
good-looking  fellow.  He  had  the  musician's 
pensive  face,  and  a  pair  of  very  tender  brown 
eyes,  and  his  hands  were  the  true  violinist's 
hands,  with  long  and  lissome  fingers.  Jim 
hobbled  up  at  the  same  time  with  a  fresh  pewter 
of  ale. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Pringle,"  said  the  Admiral,  hos- 
pitably, "  here  's  your  pewter." 

But  Basil  waved  it  away.  "Good  afternoon, 
Mrs.  Poskett  —  Gentlemen.  Thank  you,  Ad- 
miral, but  I  'm  sure  you  '11  excuse  me.  I  have 
a  long  night's  work." 

Jim  was  ready  for  the  occasion.  He  hobbled 
back  quicker  than  he  had  come,  and  drained 
the  pewter  at  one  draught  under  the  very  nose 
of  the  Eyesore. 

"Fiddling  at  Vauxhall.?"  asked  the  Admiral. 

"As  usual.  Sir  Peter.  It  is  a  gala  night. 
Fireworks." 

Mrs.  Poskett  gave  a  little  scream  of  delight. 
"Fireworks!     Oh,  ravishing!" 

"And  Mrs.  Poole  is  to  sing;  and  Incledon." 

28 


POMANDER     WALK 

Up  jumped  the  Admiral,  slapping  his  thigh. 
"Incledon!  Then,  by  gum,  I  must  be  there! 
He  was  a  sailor,  y'  know.  I  remember  him  in 
'85,  on  the  Raisonable.  Lord  Hervey,  and  PIgot 
and  Hughes  —  they  'd  have  him  up  to  sing 
glees  together!  —  Lord!  Did  ye  ever  hear  him 
sing: 

*  A  health  to  the  Captain  and  officers  too, 
And  all  who  belong  to  the  jovial  crew 
On  board  of  the  Arethusa'?" 

Now,  the  Admiral's  voice  was  an  admirable 
substitute  for  a  fog-horn,  but  as  a  vehicle  for 
a  ballad,  it  left  much  to  be  desired.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  writhed  In  melodramatic  agony,  and 
even  Mrs.  Poskett  winced.  Basil  tried  to  turn 
the  enthusiast's  thoughts  into  a  gentler  channel 
by  interpolating  that  to-night  Incledon  was 
to  sing  "  Tom  Bowling."  At  once  the  Admiral's 
face  took  on  an  expression  of  the  tenderest 
pathos.  "Tom  Bowling.?  —  Ah!"  and  he  was 
off  again,  in  a  roar  he  intended  for  a  mere  senti- 
mental whisper 

"Here,  a  sheer  hulk,  lies  poor  Tom  Bowling  — " 

This  was  too  much  for  Jim's  feelings,  never 
more  receptive  to  melodious  sorrow  than  when 
he  had  just  absorbed  a  pint  of  ale,  and  he  joined 
his  master  in  a  sympathetic  howl. 

Mrs.    Poskett   was   overcome.      "Oh,    don't, 

29 


POMANDER     WALK 

Sir  Peter,"  she  cried.  "Alderman  Poskett  used 
to  sing  just  like  that.  You  could  hear  him  a 
mile  oflF,  but  you  could  never  tell  what  the  tune 
was."  The  tender  recollection  very  nearly 
moved  her  to  tears. 

Sir  Peter  stopped  his  song  abruptly,  with  a 
penitent,  "Gobblessmysoul!    I  beg  your  pardon!" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  felt  he  had  been  out  of 
the  conversation  long  enough.  He  turned  con- 
descendingly to  Basil.  "Are  we  not  to  see  the 
Misses  Pennymint  to-day.''" 

"They  are  very  busy,"  replied  the  young 
violinist. 

Mrs.  Poskett  saw  her  opportunity.  "I  saw 
Miss  Ruth  sewing  at  a  ball-dress,"  she  said; 
and  then  added  with  a  meaning  look  at  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  "I  wonder  which  of  them  is 
going  to  a  ball.?" 

Basil  knew  from  experience  what  was  coming. 
Mrs.  Poskett  continued,  "I've  seen  them  making 
wedding-dresses,  and  even,"  with  pretty  con- 
fusion, "even  christening  robes." 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  turned  to  her  with  an 
outraged  expression:  "I  trust  you  do  not  in- 
sinuate Pomander  Walk  harbours  mantua- 
makers?" 

"It  harbours  a  poor,  hunchback  fiddler," 
remarked  Basil,  very  quietly. 

Sir  Peter  was  getting  red  in  the  face.  "The 
Misses  Pennymint  are  estimable  ladles,  and  we 

30 


POMANDER     WALK 

are  fortunate  to  have  them  among  us.  Fre- 
quently when  I  have  my  periodical  headaches  — " 
Hum,"  said  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
The  result,  sir,  of  voyages  In  unhealthy 
regions!  —  they  have  sent  me  their  home-made 
lavender  water.  When  you  had  your  last  fit  of 
asthma,  Mrs.  Poskett,  did  n't  they  come  and  sit 
with  you  and  give  you  treacle-posset.'*  And 
when  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn  presented  you  with 
your  fourth  daughter,  whose  calves-foot  jelly 
comforted  her.^  We  have  nothing  to  do  with 
their  means  of  livelihood;  we  are,  I  am  happy 
to  say,  like  one  family.    What,  Brooke.^" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  could 
only  assent:  but  he  did  so  with  a  bad  grace,  and 
with  a  contemptuous  glance  at  Basil.  It  was 
really  too  bad  of  Sir  Peter  to  suggest  that  he, 
Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn,  the  Man  of  Fashion, 
the  friend  of  the  Right  Honourable  Charles 
James  Fox,  had  anything  in  common  with  this 
shabby  musician. 

Mrs.  Poskett  bridled.  "Do  you  include  the 
French  people  at  Number  Four.'"'    she  said. 

"They  are  not  French,  ma'am,"  retorted  the 
Admiral,  "and  if  they  were,  they  couldn't  help 
it." 

Mrs.  Poskett  pointed  with  a  giggle  to  the  Eye- 
sore, who  was  at  that  moment  lovingly  fixing 
one  more  worm  on  his  hook.  "Do  you  include 
the  Eyesore?" 

31 


POMANDER     WALK 


«i 


'No,  I  do  not!"  roared  the  Admiral,  in  a 
rage.  "He  doesn't  live  here.  If  England  were 
under  a  proper  government,  he  would  be  hanged 
for  trespassing.  I  've  tried  to  remove  him,  as 
you  know,  but  —  ha!  —  it  appears  he  has  as 
much  right  here  as  any  of  us." 

"After  all,"  said  Basil,  soothingly,  "he  never 
moves  from  one  spot." 

"He  never  speaks  to  anybody,"  added  Mrs. 
Poskett. 

"He  'd  better  not,  ma'am!" 

And  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  summed  up  with  a 
laugh,  "And  I  will  do  him  the  justice  to  say,  he 
never  catches  a  fish!" 

Basil  held  up  a  warni-ng  hand,  for  the  door  of 
Number  Four  had  just  opened. 


32 


CHAPTER   III 


CONCERNING 

NUMBER 

FOUR   AND 

WHO    LIVED 

IN    IT 


IF  I  had  had  to  give  an  account  of  Number 
Four  even  six  months  before  this  story 
opens  I  should  have  been  forced  to  admit  it 
was  a  blot  on  the  Walk.  The  people  who  occupied 
it  had  left  without  paying  their  rent,  which  was  in 
itself  a  thing  likely  to  cast  discredit  on  the  whole 
Walk.  Buttheydid  worse  than  that.  Just  before 
leaving,  they  managed,  on  one  plausible  pretext 
or  another,  to  wheedle  sums  of  varying  amounts 
out  of  almost  all  their  neighbours.  Out  of 
every  one  of  them,  in  fact,  except  the  Reverend 
Jacob  Sternroyd,  D.D.,  who  lived  all  alone  in 
the  sixth  and  last  house,  and  about  whom  I  shall 
have  more  to  say  by-and-by.  For  weeks  the 
Walk  remained  hopeful  of  seeing  its  money  back. 
Then  came  doubt,  and  lastly,  a  period  of  very 
bad  temper  during  which  everybody  told  every- 

33 


POMANDER     WALK 

bodv  else  they  had  said  so  all  along,  and  if  people 
had  only  listened  to  them  —  !  The  owner  of  the 
house,  a  very  fat  brewer  at  Brentford,  put  in  a 
dreadful  old  Irishwoman  as  caretaker,  and  she 
would  sit  on  the  front  door-steps  —  the  actual 
door-steps,  in  the  open,  where  the  whole  Walk 
could  not  avoid  seeing  her  —  and  smoke  a  filthy 
short  black  pipe:  a  sight  terrible  to  behold. 

When  remonstrated  with,  she  retorted  volubly 
in  incomprehensible  Milesian.  The  Admiral 
himself  had  attacked  her. 

"Now,  my  good  woman,  we  can't  have  you 
smoking  here." 

The  old  woman  looked  up  at  him  with  bleary 
eyes,  and  puffed  in  his  face. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?" 

"What  for  should  I  not  hear,  darlint.?" 

"You  are  not  to  smoke  here!" 

"Who  says  so?" 

"I  say  so.  If  you  don't  go  indoors,  I  '11  come 
and  take  the  pipe  out  of  your  mouth." 

"Will  you  so?  You  bring  your  ugly  face  in- 
side that  gate  and  see  phwat  I'll  do  to  ye!" 

"Do  you  know  who  I  am?" 

"Sure  an'  I  do.  Yer  father  sowld  stinkin'  fish 
on  Dublin  quay  when  I  was  ridin'  in  me  carriage." 

"You  foul-mouthed  old  woman  —  !" 

"Don't  you  'ould  woman'  me,  neither.  You 
go  to  hell  and  watch  ould  Nick  stirrin'  up  yer 
grandmother!" 

34 


The  Revkrknd  Jacob  Stkrnroyd,  U.D. 


POMANDER     WALK 

No  gentleman  could  hope  to  carry  on  a  con- 
versation on  these  lines  with  any  success  when 
all  the  windows  of  the  Walk  were  open,  and  all 
the  inhabitants  listening  behind  the  curtains. 
The  Admiral  went  straight  to  the  Brentford 
brewer,  but  the  latter  gave  him  no  redress.  He 
only  asked  whether  the  Admiral  had  taken  the 
old  lady's  advice. 

She  was  not  only  in  herself  an  intolerable 
nuisance,  but  she  prevented  desirable  tenants 
from  taking  the  house.  Whenever  any  candidate 
appeared  she  had  an  excruciating  toothache; 
or  she  was  doubled  up  with  rheumatism;  or  she 
shook  the  whole  house  with  a  ghastly  church- 
yard cough.  The  sympathy  of  the  enquirer 
forced  the  information  from  her  that  she  had 
been  sprightly  and  well,  a  picture  of  a  woman, 
till  she  came  to  Pomander  Walk.  Mind  you,  she 
was  n't  saying  anything  against  the  house.  It 
was  a  good  enough  house;  though,  to  be  sure, 
the  rats  were  something  awful.  Still,  some  people 
liked  rats.  In  desperate  cases  she  even  went  so 
far  as  to  hint  that  the  house  was  haunted.  She 
was  a  foolish  old  woman,  of  course,  but  why  did 
locked  doors  open  of  themselves?  Doors  she  had 
locked  with  her  own  hands.  They  did  say  that 
the  last  tenant  had  hanged  himself  in  the  garret. 
And  by  that  time  the  enquirer  had  given  her  half- 
a-crown,  and  had  left  her  in  the  undisputed 
possession  of  her  cutty-pipe  on  the  doorstep. 

35 


POMANDER     WALK 

This  fertility  of  imagination  led  to  her  undoing, 
however.  For  upon  hearing  of  it  (from  the  Ad- 
miral, of  course)  the  brewer  sent  his  wife  in  the 
guise  of  an  enquiring  tenant,  and  subsequently 
turned  the  old  woman  out  without  any  ceremony 
whatever. 

But  the  Walk  did  not  recover  its  self-respect 
for  some  time.  The  house  was  still  undeniably 
empty.  The  windows  got  dirty;  dead  leaves 
covered  the  door-step;  the  paint  peeled  off  the 
woodwork  and  the  railings;  some  wretched  boys 
threw  a  dead  dog  into  the  garden,  where  it  lay 
hidden  for  days;  and,  besides,  the  old  woman's 
suggestion  that  the  house  was  haunted,  left  its 
poison  behind.  Presently  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's 
nurse  saw  a  face  gibbering  behind  the  window, 
and  had  hysterics;  and  next  Miss  Barbara 
Pennymint  distinctly  saw  a  hand  beckoning  to 
her  from  the  same  window  and  fled,  shrieking, 
to  her  sister. 

The  Admiral  pooh-poohed  the  whole  thing  and 
made  elaborate  arrangements  to  spend  a  night 
in  the  house  with  Jim.  Jim  expressed  his  delight 
at  the  prospect  of  such  an  adventure,  and  went 
about  describing  exactly  what  he  would  do  to 
the  ghost  if  he  saw  it;  but  he  had  very  bad  luck 
when  the  time  came,  with  a  sudden  attack  of 
sciatica  which  glued  him  to  his  bed.  The  curi- 
ous thing  was  that  however  often  the  Admiral 
postponed  the  day  for  the  undertaking,  Jim's 

36 


POMANDER     WALK 

sciatica  inevitably  returned  when  the  day  came. 
So  time  slipped  away.  The  Admiral  said  he 
would  explore  the  mystery  alone,  but  it  slipped 
his  memory. 

So  the  house  remained  tenantless,  and  when 
the  Walk  was  painted  according  to  the  Admiral's 
instructions,  Number  Four  had  to  be  passed 
over,  and  consequently  looked  more  woe-begone 
than  ever. 

And  the  next  thing  the  Walk  knew  was  that  It 
woke  one  morning  to  find  strange  men  bringing 
loads  of  furniture,  amongst  which  was  a  harp. 
Si  forte-piano,  and  a  guitar-case,  and  that  painters 
—  not  their  own  painters,  but  an  entirely  un- 
known lot  —  were  at  work  scraping  off  the  old 
paint. 

The  Admiral  rushed  out  —  I  am  shocked  to 
say,  in  his  slippers  and  shirt-sleeves  —  and  was 
told  that  the  house  was  let;  let,  without  any 
sort  of  warning  or  notice;  let,  so  to  speak,  over 
the  heads  of  the  Walk;  over  his  own  head.  And 
the  men  could  not  tell  him  the  name  of  the  new 
tenant.  All  they  knew  was  that  it  was  a  lady. 
A  lady  with  a  name  they  could  n't  pronounce. 
A  foreign  name.  Foreign?  Foreign?  —  Yes; 
French,  by  the  sound  of  it. 

This  was  beyond  anything  the  Admiral  or  the 
Walk  had  ever  had  to  cope  with.  However,  the 
Admiral  mastered  his  indignation  and  contented 
himself  with  giving  the  painters  strict  and  minute 

37 


POMANDER     WALK 

instructions  as  to  the  precise  shade  of  green  they 
were  to  use  so  as  to  make  the  house  uniform  with 
the  rest. 

He  had  to  go  to  London  next  day  to  draw  his 
pay.  We  know  the  inevitable  consequences  of 
that  excursion.  The  following  morning  he  woke 
at  midday  in  a  very  bad  humour.  The  first  thing 
he  saw  when  he  threw  open  his  window,  was 
Sempronius  digging  up  his  sweet  peas;  and  the 
next  was  Number  Four  painted  a  creamy  white. 

I  draw  a  veil. 

It  was  no  use  appealing  to  the  brewer.  He 
said  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  it;  and  when  it 
was  pointed  out  to  him  that  the  chaste  uniformity 
of  the  Walk  was  ruined,  he  impertinently  sug- 
gested that  the  entire  Walk  might  get  itself 
painted  all  over  again,  and  painted  sky-blue. 

So  the  Admiral  took  his  time,  determined  to 
give  this  malapert  and  intrusive  foreign  woman 
—  she  had  now  become  a  woman  —  a  severe 
lesson. 

A  few  days  later  the  house  was  taken  posses- 
sion of  by  an  elderly  female  servant  —  a  stout 
and  florid  Bretonne,  who  went  about,  as  Mrs. 
Poskett  said,  looking  a  figure  of  fun  in  her 
national  costume. 

Then  began  such  a  scrubbing  and  brushing 
and  washing  at  Number  Four  as  the  Walk  had 
never  seen.  The  bolder  spirits  —  not  the  Ad- 
miral:   he   reserved   himself  for   the  enemy-in- 

38 


POMANDER     WALK 

chief  —  Mrs.  Poskett,  and  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn's 
nurse,  made  tentative  approaches,  but  were 
repulsed  with  great  slaughter:  the  Bretonne 
could  not  speak  a  word  of  English.  When,  how- 
ever, she  proceeded  to  tie  a  rope  from  the  elm  — 
the  sacred  Elm  —  to  the  Gazebo,  to  hang  rugs 
across  it  and  beat  them  to  the  tune  of  "A/a/- 
broucq  s^en  va-t-en  guerre^^  sung  with  immense 
gusto.  Sir  Peter  was  forced  to  attack  her  him- 
self. He  had  picked  up  a  smattering  of  French 
in  the  wars,  and  the  Walk  lined  its  window  with 
eager  faces  to  witness  his  victory. 

Alas,  the  Bretonne  now  pretended  not  to 
understand  the  Admiral's  French,  and  replied 
to  all  his  remonstrances,  commands,  and  ob- 
jurgations, with  "Bien,  mon  vieux!"  while  she 
banged  more  lustily  on  the  rugs  and  covered  the 
now  apoplectic  Admiral  with  layers  of  dust. 

The  Admiral  promised  his  subjects  —  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  indulged  in  a 
cynical  smile  —  that  the  very  first  hour  the 
Frenchwoman  came  into  residence  —  the  very 
first  hour,  mind  you  —  he  would  teach  her  her 
place. 

The  next  day  the  house  was  ready  for  her,  and 
the  Walk  could  but  shudder  as  it  looked  at  it: 
it  had  become  so  un-English.  The  steps  were  as 
white  as  snow;  the  garden  was  trim  and  neat; 
the  quiet  cream  paint  was  offensively  cheerful; 
the  brass   knocker  was  a    poem;    the   windows 

39 


POMANDER     WALK 

gleamed,  positively  gleamed,  in  the  sun,  and 
behind  them  were  coquettish  lace  curtains.  The 
crowning  offence  was  that  every  window-sill 
was  loaded  with  growing  flowers.  Mr.  Pringle 
said  the  house  standing  in  the  midst  of  its  prim 
neighbours  reminded  him  of  a  laughing  young 
girl  surrounded  by  her  maiden  aunts;  and  Miss 
Ruth  Pennymint  told  him  he  ought  to  know 
better  than  to  say  such  things  in  the  presence  of 
ladies. 

The  Admiral  himself  as  this  story  proceeds, 
shall  tell  you  in  his  own  words  of  the  startling 
effect  produced  by  the  arrival  of  the  new  ten- 
ants. Suffice  it  to  say  that  it  was  totally  unex- 
pected, and  that  the  Walk  was  forced  to  readjust 
its  views  in  every  particular.  At  the  point  of 
time  we  have  now  reached,  Madame  Lachesnais 
and  her  daughter,  Marjolalne,  were  the  most 
popular  inhabitants  of  the  Walk,  and  nobody 
had  anything  but  good  to  say  of  them. 

Wherefore,  when,  as  recorded  in  the  previous 
chapter,  Mr.  Pringle  held  up  a  warning  hand  and 
said  "Madame!"  all  turned  expectantly. 

It  was  quite  a  little  procession  that  now  issued 
from  Number  Four.  First  came  Nanette,  the 
servant,  spick  and  span  in  her  Bretonne  dress, 
with  a  cap  of  dazzling  whiteness.  On  her  arm 
was  a  great  market-basket.  She  was  followed 
by  Madame  herself,  a  tall  and  graceful  person 
no  longer  in  the  first  bloom  of  youth,  but,  in 

40 


POMANDER     WALK 

spite  of  the  traces  of  sorrow  on  her  face,  still 
beautiful.  She  was  dressed  in  some  quiet,  grey 
material,  for  she  was  still  in  half-mourning  for 
her  late  husband;  her  delicate  throat  and  hands 
were  set  off  by  exquisite  old  lace.  She  moved 
with  a  sort  of  floating  grace,  very  charming  to 
watch.  There  was  distinction  and  well-bred 
self-possession  in  every  line.  Behind  her  fol- 
lowed her  daughter,  Marjolaine,  a  charming 
girl  of  nineteen.  There  is  no  necessity  for  more 
particular  description.  A  charming  girl  of  nine- 
teen is  the  loveliest  thing  on  earth,  and  more 
need  not  be  said. 

The  Admiral  and  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  leaped 
to  their  feet  as  Madame  appeared.  Both  threw 
their  chests  out  and  assumed  their  finest  company 
manner,  to  such  an  extent,  indeed,  that  Mrs. 
Poskett  could  not  repress  a  contemptuous  sniff. 

Madame  came  graciously  towards  the  group. 
"Ah!  Good  afternoon,"  she  said,  in  a  pleasant 
voice,  with  only  the  slightest  trace  of  a  French 
accent.  "  I  am  going  marketing  in  Chiswick 
with  Nanette.  Nanette  cannot  speak  a  word  of 
English,  you  know."  Then  she  turned  to  her 
daughter.  "Marjolaine,  you  may  take  your 
book  under  the  tree,  if  our  friends  will  have  you." 
Marjolaine  was  talking  to  Mr.  Basil  Pringle. 
"It  is  nearly  time  for  my  singing-lesson,  Maman." 

"Ah,  yes.  Mr.  Basil,  I  fear  you  find  her  very 
backward." 

41 


POMANDER     WALK 

Basil  could  only  murmur,  "O  no,  Madame,  I 
assure  you  —  " 

It  was  noticeable  that  everyone  who  spoke 
to  Madame  did  so  with  a  sense  of  subdued 
reverence. 

Madame  turned  to  Marjolaine.  "Ask  Miss 
Barbara  to  chaperone  you,  as  I  have  to  go  out." 

*'Bien,  Maman." 

"You  are  to  speak  English,  dear." 

"Bien,  Maman  —  O!  I  mean  yes,  mother!" 

Sir  Peter  and  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  both  sidled 
up  to  Madame,  while  Mrs.  Poskett  stood  utterly 
neglected  and  looked  on  with  the  air  of  an  injured 
saint. 

"May  I  not  offer  you  my  escort.''"  said  both 
gentlemen  in  one  breath. 

"O  no!"  laughed  Madame.  "I  have  Nanette. 
Nothing  can  happen  to  me  while  I  have  Nanette." 

"As  if  anything  ever  could  happen  in  Chis- 
wick!"   said  Mrs.  Poskett,  a  little  spitefully. 

Madame  signalled  to  Nanette  to  lead  the  way, 
and  followed  her  past  the  Eyesore  and  out  of  the 
Walk,  convoyed  by  the  gallant  Admiral  as  far 
as  the  corner,  where  he  stood  looking  after  her 
an  appreciable  time. 

Meanwhile  Marjolaine  had  run  up  to  the  rail- 
ings of  Number  Three  where  Miss  Ruth  Penny- 
mint  was  sewing  in  the  window. 

"Miss  Ruth,"  she  cried,  "is  Barbara  busy.?" 

Miss  Ruth  looked  up  from  her  work  with   a 

42 


POMANDER     WALK 

smile  as  she  saw  the  eager  young  face.     "She's 
closeted  with  Doctor  Johnson." 

"Will  you  ask  her  to  come  out  when  she's 
done?"  and  Marjolaine  came  back  to  the  tree. 
Basil  rose  from  his  seat,  "Pray  don't  move," 
said  the  young  girl,  prettily,  "Barbara  will  be 
here  in  a  moment.    She  is  with  Doctor  Johnson." 

Basil's  face  was  very  grave.  It  looked  almost 
like  the  face  of  a  man  who  finds  himself  in  the 
presence  of  a  great  tragedy;  or  of  one  who  knows 
he  is  fighting  an  insuperable  obstacle.  "Ah, 
yes,"  he  sighed,  "Doctor  Johnson.  Surely  that  is 
very  pathetic."  And  he  turned  away  and  leant 
disconsolately  against  the  railings,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  door  of  Number  Three. 

"Come  and  sit  down,  Missie,  come  and  sit 
down,"  cried  the  Admiral,  heartily. 

Marjolaine  accepted  his  invitation.  "I  used 
to  be  so  afraid  of  you,  Sir  Peter!" 

"Gobblessmysoul!    Why.?" 

"You  were  so  angry  with  us  for  painting  our 
house  white!" 

"Hum,"  coughed  the  Admiral,  looking  guiltily 
at  Mrs.  Poskett  and  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
"Ah  —  hum!  —  the  others  were  green,  ye  see. 
But  it 's  an  admirable  contrast." 

Mrs.  Poskett  sniffed.  She  had  not  forgotten 
the  Admiral's  Ignominious  surrender. 

Now  Miss  Ruth  and  Miss  Barbara  came  out 
of  their  house,  hand  In  hand,  as  usual.     Miss 

43 


POMANDER  WALK 

Ruth  was,  as  we  are  aware,  considerably  older 
than  her  sister,  and  still  treated  her  like  a  pet 
child.  Barbara  disengaged  herself  as  soon  as 
she  caught  sight  of  Marjolaine,  rushed  at  her 
with  bird-like  hops,  and  pecked  a  little  kiss  off 
each  cheek  as  a  bird  pecks  at  a  cherry. 

"Oh,  Marjolaine,  dearest!"  she  cried  with 
enthusiasm,  "Doctor  Johnson  has  been  most 
extraordinarily  eloquent!"  The  two  girls  walked 
away  together  with  their  arms  gracefully  en- 
twined around  each  other's  waists.  Ruth  joined 
the  others  under  the  tree. 

"Good  afternoon,"  she  said,  "Dear  Barbara! 
—  She  has  just  had  her  hour  with  the  parrot. 
Her  memories  of  Lieutenant  Charles  are  at  their 
liveliest." 

Mr.  Basil,  who  had  never  taken  his  eyes  off 
Barbara,  heaved  a  soul-rending  sigh,  and  came 
up  to  Miss  Ruth. 

"Very  unwholesome,  /  think,"  said  Mrs. 
Poskett,  sharply.  Miss  Ruth  explained  to 
Basil:  "Lieutenant  Charles  was  in  His  Ma- 
jesty's Navy,  you  know,  and  dear  Barbara  was 
affianced  to  him." 

"So  I  have  heard,"  answered  Basil,  coldly. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  heard  it  on  an  average 
twice  every  day.  Ruth  went  on  relentlessly, 
"Unhappily  he  was  abruptly  removed  from  this 
earthly  sphere." 

Bare   politeness    forced    Basil    to   show   some 

44 


POMANDER     WALK 

interest.     After  all,  Ruth  was  Barbara's  sister. 
"I  presume  he  fell  in  battle?" 

"  Say  rather  in  single  combat." 

The  Admiral  with  difHculty  suppressed  a 
guffaw.  He  whispered  to  Basil  with  a  hoarse 
chuckle,  "As  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  knocked 
on  the  head  outside  a  gin-shop." 

"But,"  the  unconscious  Ruth  went  on,  "he 
had  bestowed  a  token  of  his  affection  on  dear 
Barbara,  in  the  shape  of  the  remarkable  bird 
you  may  have  seen." 

Basil  had  seen  him  often  and  had  heard  him 
constantly.  For  whenever  the  bird  was  left 
alone,  he  filled  the  air  incessantly  with  ear- 
piercing  shrieks. 

"Doctor  Johnson,"  continued  Ruth,  "named 
after  the  great  Lexicographer  in  consideration  of 
his  astonishing  fluency  of  speech.  Doctor  John- 
son is  Barbara's  only  consolation." 

Basil  suppressed  a  groan.  The  obstacle! 
The  obstacle! 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  Barbara,  who  had  come  up 
with  Marjolaine.  She  spoke  with  pretty  melan- 
choly, but  with  a  side-glance  at  Basil.  "Yes, 
dear,  he  speaks  with  Charles's  voice,  and  says 
the  very  things  Charles  used  to  say." 

Basil  moved  away.  This  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  bear. 

"How  lovely!"  cried  Marjolaine.  "I  wish  I 
could  hear  him!" 

45 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Ah,  no!"  Barbara's  chubby  face  fell  into 
the  nearest  approach  to  solemnity  she  could 
manage.  "Not  even  you  may  share  that 
melancholy  joy.  The  things  he  says  are  too 
sacred." 

Sir  Peter  had  sidled  up  to  Basil.  "I  tell  you, 
sir,  that  bird's  language  would  silence  Billings- 
gate. The  atmosphere  of  that  room  must  be 
solid,  sir  —  solid."  Basil  stared  at  him  with 
amazed  reproof,  and  the  Admiral  turned  to 
Marjolaine.  "Well,  Missie,  we  all  hope  you  Ve 
grown  to  like  the  Walk.?" 

"I  love  it!    And  so  does  Maman." 

The  Admiral  grew  enthusiastic.  He  turned 
towards  the  houses  glowing  in  the  late  sun. 
"It  is  a  sheltered  haven.  Look  at  it!  A  haven 
of  content!  What  says  the  poet.?  'The  world 
forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot. '  " 

All  had  turned  with  him.  They  were  just  an 
ordinary,  every-day  set  of  people.  There  was 
not  a  poet  among  them,  if  we  except  Basil,  and 
yet  the  Walk,  basking  in  the  evening  sun, 
touched  some  chord  in  each  heart.  The  Ad- 
miral saw  his  flag  drooping  in  the  still  air,  and 
remembered  his  fighting  days;  Mrs.  Poskctt 
thought  of  Scmpronius,  and  her  tea-kettle 
simmering  on  the  hob;  Ruth  was  grateful  for 
the  shelter  her  little  house  had  given  her  in  her 
misfortune;  Barbara  thought  of  Doctor  Johnson 

and  —  must  I  say  it,?  —  of  Basil;  Basil  thought 

46 


POMANDER     WALK 

of  Barbara;  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  thought  of 
patient,  unattractive  Selina,  and  the  four  baby 
girls;  Marjolaine,  in  her  fresh  girlhood,  could 
only  think  of  how  pretty  the  flowers  looked  in  the 
window. 

Barbara  exclaimed,  "When  the  sunlight  falls 
on  it  so,  how  lovely  it  is!" 

Basil  looked  into  her  blue  eyes,  and  mur- 
mured, "It  reminds  me  of  the  music  I  am  at 
work  on." 

"What  is  that?"  cried  Marjolaine.  "It 
sounds  beautiful  —  through  the  wall." 

The  musician's  enthusiasm  was  kindled;  he 
grew  eloquent.  "It  is  by  a  new  German  com- 
poser: a  man  called  Beethoven.  My  old  violin- 
master,  Kreutzer,  sent  it  me.  —  Ah!  These 
new  Germans!  They  are  so  complicated;  so 
difficult.  I  am  old-fashioned,  you  know.  I 
had  the  honour  of  playing  under  Mr.  Haydn 
at  the  Salomon  concerts.  Yes!  and  in  the  very 
first  performance  of  his  immortal  Oratorio,  'The 
Creation,'  at  Worcester.  So  perhaps  I  am  pre- 
judiced. Yet  this  new  music  is  very  wonderful; 
very  heart-searching."  He  stopped  abruptly, 
realising  he  was  talking  to  deaf  ears.  Sir  Peter 
came  to  his  rescue. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  your  new- 
fangled fiddle-faddles;  but,  by  Jehoshaphat, 
Pringle,  play  me  a  hornpipe,  and  I  '11  dance 
till  your  arms  drop  off!" 

47 


POMANDER  WALK 

He  hummed  the  tune,  and  with  amazing  agility 
sketched  a  few  steps,  while  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
put  up  his  quizzing  glass  and  eyed  him  with  a 
superior  smile.  "Oh!"  laughed  Marjolaine, 
clapping  her  hands,  "you  must  teach  me!" 

"That  I  will,  Missie!  and  the  sooner  the  better." 

Mrs.  Poskett  was  furious.  "No  fool  like  an 
old  fool,"  she  whispered  in  Ruth's  ear. 

Barbara,  who  had  been  up  to  Mrs.  Poskett's 
gate  to  stroke  Sempronius,  came  running  down 
with  a  little  cry  of  horror.  She  pointed  to  the 
frouzy  figure  of  the  Eyesore.  "Look!  The 
Eyesore  's  going  to  smoke!" 

And,  sure  enough,  after  removing  an  in- 
describable handkerchief,  a  greasy  newspaper, 
obviously  containing  his  lunch,  half  an  apple, 
a  large  piece  of  cheese,  a  huge  pocket-knife,  and 
a  lump  of  coal  he  had  picked  up  in  the  road,  the 
Eyesore  had  dragged  out  a  horrible  little  clay 
pipe  and  a  dreadful  little  paper  packet  of  to- 
bacco. The  Walk  stood  petrified.  When  the 
Eyesore  smoked,  everybody  had  to  go  indoors 
and  shut  their  windows. 

"His  poisonous  tobacco!"  cried  Ruth.  "Can 
you  not  speak  to  him.  Admiral.^" 

"I  can,  Madam,  but  he'll  answer  back." 

"And  then,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett  somewhat 
tartly,  "of  course  you  are  helpless." 

"Not  at  all,  ma'am.  I  hope  I  can  swear  with 
any  man;  but  —  the  ladies!" 

48 


POMANDER  WALK 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had  been  observing  the 
Eyesore.  "Thank  heaven,"  he  whispered,  "his 
pipe  won't  draw." 

For  the  Eyesore  was  trying  to  blow  through 
the  stem,  was  knocking  his  pipe  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand,  was  endeavouring  to  run  a  straw 
through  it:  all  without  success.  Finally,  in  an 
access  of  rage,  he  tossed  it  aside  and  sullenly 
resumed  his  fishing.  A  sigh  of  relief  went  up 
from  the  whole  Walk.    They  were  saved. 

Now  a  quaint  figure  came  slowly  round  the 
corner.  "Ah!"  cried  Basil,  "here  is  our  good 
Doctor  Sternroyd!" 

"With  his  books,  as  usual,"  added  Mr.  Brooke-. 
Hoskyn.    "What a  brain!" 

"Old  dryasdust!"  laughed  Sir  Peter.  But 
pointing  to  the  Doctor,  Basil  motioned  them 
all  to  silence. 

And,  to  be  sure,  the  Doctor  was  worth  looking 
at.  He  was  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  fifty  years 
before.  Indeed,  I  should  doubt  whether  in  all 
those  fifty  years  he  had  had  a  new  suit  of  clothes. 
On  his  head  was  a  venerable  hat  of  indefinite 
shape;  under  liis  left  arm  a  great  bundle  of  old 
books;  under  his  right  a  venerable  umbrella  of 
generous  proportions,  which  had  once  been 
green.  Fortunately  his  coat  had  originally 
been  snuff-coloured,  so  that  the  spilled  snufi" 
made  no  diiference  to  it.  His  small-clothes 
were    shabby;    his    lean    shanks    were    encased 

49 


POMANDER     WALK 

in  grey  worsted  stockings,  and  the  great  silver 
buckles  on  his  shoes  were  tarnished. 

At  the  present  moment,  however,  it  was  not  so 
much  his  appearance  as  his  actions  that  arrested 
the  Walk's  attention.  He  had  come  in  dreamily 
as  usual  with  his  lack-lustre  eyes  seeing  nothing 
in  spite  of  their  great  silver-rimmed  spectacles. 
Suddenly  his  attention  was  attracted  by  some- 
thing lying  at  his  feet.  He  stopped,  picked  it  up 
laboriously,  and  examined  it  minutely,  pushing 
his  spectacles  over  his  forehead  for  the  purpose. 

"Bless  the  man!"  cried  Mrs.  Poskett.  "He  's 
picked  up  the  Eyesore's  filthy  pipe!" 

And  now  he  was  exhibiting  all  the  symp- 
toms of  frantic  joy.  Utterly  unconscious  of  the 
people  watching  him,  he  indulged  in  delighted 
chuckles,  and  his  withered  old  legs  quite  in- 
dependently of  their  master's  volition  executed 
a  sort  of  grotesque  dance.  He  looked  very  much 
like  a  crane  that  had  caught  a  fish. 

"But  why  the  step-dance.'"'  exclaimed  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  with  a  laugh. 

Sir  Peter  hailed  him.  "Doctor  Sternroyd, 
ahoy!'^" 

The  Doctor  looked  from  one  to  the  other  In 
genuine  amazement.  It  was  evident  his  mind 
had  been  wandering  in  some  remote  world. 

"Dear  me!  Tut,  tut!"  he  stammered.  "I 
had  not  observed  you!"  Then,  with  a  radiant 
face,  "Ah,  my  friends,  congratulate  me!" 

50 


POMANDER     WALK 

All  gathered  round  him,  and  the  Admiral 
asked,  "What  about,  Doctor?" 

"This,"  said  the  reverend  gentleman,  holding 
up  the  trophy.  "This.  A  beautiful  specimen 
of  an  early  Elizabethan  tobacco-pipe!" 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  the  Ad- 
miral restrained  a  great  burst  of  laughter  from 
the  onlookers.  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  got  as  far 
as  "That,  sir.?  Why,  that's — "  when  a  tre- 
mendous dig  from  the  Admiral's  elbow  deprived 
him  of  his  wind,  and  sent  him  backward  clucking 
like  an  infuriated  turkey-cock. 

"I  do  not  wonder  at  your  surprise,"  continued 
the  antiquary.  "Yes,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen, 
they  are  sometimes  found  in  the  alluvial 
deposit  of  the  Thames;  but  even  my  friend, 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  whose  specialty 
they  are,  does  not  possess  so  perfect  a  specimen 
in  his  entire  collection." 

Again  the  Admiral  was  obliged  to  exercise  all 
his  authority  in  order  to  suppress  unseemly 
mirth  or  explanations.  Doctor  Sternroyd  went 
on  with  the  tone  of  regret  assumed  by  a  man  of 
learning  in  the  presence  of  an  ignorant  and  un- 
appreciative  audience.  "Ah,  you  don't  under- 
stand the  value  of  these  things.  Out  of  this 
fragment  it  is  possible  to  reconstruct  an  entire 
epoch.  I  see  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  fleet  bringing 
home  the  fragrant  weed  from  the  distant  plan- 
tations;   I  sec  him  enjoying  its  vapours  in   his 

51 


POMANDER     WALK 

pleasaunce  at  Sherborne;  I  see  Drake  solacing 
himself  with  it  on  board  the  Golden  Hind.  Yes, 
yes,  I  shall  read  a  paper  on  it.  —  Ah!  if  only 
my  dear  wife,  my  beloved  Araminta,  were  here 
now!"  With  mingled  melancholy  and  triumph 
he  drifted  across  the  lawn  and  into  his  house  — 
the  last  house  of  the  crescent. 

"Amazing!"  said  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn;  "but 
why  would  n't  you  let  me  tell  him,  Sir  Peter.?" 

There  was  a  wistful  look  on  Sir  Peter's  face 
as  he  replied.  "Ah,  Brooke!  We  all  live  on 
our  illusions.  The  more  we  believe,  the  happier 
we  are!" 

This  was  beyond  Brooke;  but  Miss  Ruth 
understood  and  sighed  her  assent. 


52 


CHAPTER  IV 

CONCERNING  A 

MYSTERIOUS  LADY,  AND 
AN  ELDERLY  BEAU 


THIS  was  evidently  to  be  a  memorable 
afternoon  in  the  annals  of  Pomander 
Walk;  for  no  sooner  had  it  recovered 
from  its  mirth  over  the  Doctor's  antiquarian 
discovery  than  Jim,  who  had  been  training  the 
sweet  peas  at  the  corner  of  the  Admiral's  house, 
shouted  hoarsely: 

"Admiral!  Pirate  in  the  offing!'* 
Such  a  startling  announcement  was  well 
calculated  to  silence  all  laughter;  and  the  im- 
posing figure  who  now  appeared  round  the 
corner  certainly  did  nothing  to  encourage  mirth: 
a  very  tall,  very  gaunt,  very  bony  lady,  severely 

53 


POMANDER     WALK 

but  richly  dressed;  her  face  hidden  In  the  remote 
recesses  of  a  more  than  usually  capacious  poke 
bonnet.  She  was  followed  by  an  enormous 
footman  carrying  a  gold-headed  cane  In  one 
hand,  while  a  fat  pug  reposed  on  his  other  arm. 
The  Walk  was  paralysed  and  could  only  stare 
and  gasp.  Who  was  she.'*  Where  did  she  come 
from.?    Whom  did  she  want.? 

She  stopped  and  examined  the  Eyesore  through 
her  uplifted  face-a-main,  as  if  he  had  been  some 
strange,  unpleasant  animal.  "Fellow,"  she 
said,  "Is  this  Pomander  Lane.?"  A  shudder  ran 
through  the  Walk.  Pomander  Lane,  Indeed!  — 
The  only  answer  the  lady  got  from  the  Eye- 
sore was  that  at  that  precise  moment  he  found 
it  agreeable  to  scratch  his  back.  With  an  ex- 
clamation of  disgust  she  turned  from  him  only 
to  find  herself  face  to  face  with  Jim.  Now  Jim 
was  not  pretty  to  look  at. 

"Fellow,  Is  this  Pomander  Lane?"  she  re- 
peated. 

"You  've  a-lost  yer  bearln's,  mum,"  replied 
the  old  tar  huskily  and  not  too  cordially. 

"What  savages!"  muttered  the  Lady  as  she 
turned  to  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn.  "You!  Is  this 
Pomander  Lane?" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had  laid  himself  out  to 
fascinate  her  with  his  courtliest  manner,  but 
the  "You!"  with  which  she  addressed  him 
aroused    the    turkey-cock    within    him,    and    it 

54 


POMANDER     WALK 

was  an  icy  and  raging  Brooke-Hoskyn  who 
replied,  "This,  ma'am,  is  Pomander  Walk!" 

"Same  thing,"  said  the  Lady  contemptuously. 

"Excuse  me,  ma'am — !"  exclaimed  Sir  Peter 
hotly. 

But  she  waved  him  aside  and  proceeded  in  a 
tone  intended  to  be  ingratiating,  and  therefore 
more  offensive  than  any  tone  she  could  have 
chosen,  "  My  good  people  "  —  imagine  the  Walk's 
feelings!  —  "I  have  undertaken  to  look  after 
the  morals  of  this  part  of  your  parish.  I  have 
made  it  my  duty  to  give  advice  and  distribute 
alms." 

Morals  —  parish  —  advice  —  alms!  Had  the 
Walk  ever  heard  such  words  uttered  within  its 
genteel  precincts.''  The  Lady  turned  to  Ruth, 
who  happened  to  be  at  her  side.  "Where  are 
your  children.^" 

Ruth  stood  aghast.  She  could  only  breathe 
indignantly,  "I  am  a  spinster." 

"Are  there  no  children.-*"  said  the  Lady 
reproachfully. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  nurse  happened  to  pass 
at  the  moment  on  her  way  into  the  house.  The 
Lady  stopped  her.  "Ah,  yes."  Mrs.  Poskett 
and  the  Admiral  had  sunk  in  helpless  surprise 
on  the  bench  under  the  elm.  The  Lady  turned 
to  them.     "The  father  and  mother,  I  suppose.'"' 

Mrs.  Poskett  and  the  Admiral  started  apart, 
as  if  they  had  been  shocked  by  a  galvanic  battery. 

55 


POMANDER     WALK 

Mrs.  Poskett  uttered  an  indignant  scream;  the 
Admiral   could   only   gasp,    "Gobblessmysoul!" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  purple  in  the  face,  came 
clucking  down.  "This,  ma'am,  is  my  youngest. 
The  youngest  of  four  —  at  present." 

The  Lady  looked  him  up  and  down.  "I  will 
give  your  wife  instructions  about  their  man- 
agement —  " 

Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn  danced  with  rage.  "You'll 
—  haha! —  She'll  teach  Selina!  —  Hoho!  ^ — 
Oh,  that's  good!" 

But  the  Lady  had  caught  sight  of  Marjolaine, 
who  with  Barbara  was  standing  by  the  Gazebo. 
Both  young  ladies,  I  regret  to  say,  were  laugh- 
ing immoderately.  Brushing  the  Admiral  aside, 
she  sailed  imposingly  across  to  them  and  ad- 
dressed Marjolaine,  who  was  by  this  time  looking 
demure,  and  overdoing  it. 

"What  do  I  see.^"  said  the  Lady  severely, 
examining  Marjolaine  through  her  glasses. 
" Curls .^  At  your  age, curls?  Fie!"  Then  shaking 
a  lank  finger  at  her,  "Mind!  your  hair  must  be 
quite  straight  when  next  I  come." 

To  the  delight  of  the  Walk  Marjolaine  made 
a  pretty  and  submissive  curtsey,  and  answered, 
"Yes,  ma'am;  but  don't  come  again  in  a  hurry. 
Give  me  lots  and  lots  of  time!" 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Poskett  and  Ruth  had  been 
urging  the  Admiral  on.  Now  he  approached 
the  Lady  in  his  quarter-deck  manner,  and  said, 

S6 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Madam  —  hum  —  we  give  alms,  and  we  do  not 
take  advice.  You  're  on  the  wrong  tack.  You  're 
out  of  your  reckoning."  Then,  pointing  grandly 
to  the  only  entrance  to  the  Walk,  "That  is  your 
course  for  Pomander  Lane." 

"Yes,"  said  Brooke-Hoskyn,  with  the  same 
action,  "That!" 

"Yes,"  said  all  the  ladies,  pointing  melo- 
dramatically to  the  corner,  "That!" 

"Jim,"  ordered  the  Admiral,  "pilot  the  lady 
out." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir." 

The  Lady  eyed  them  all  in  turn  through  her 
face-a-main.  "Very  well,"  she  said,  with  mag- 
nificent scorn.  "I  was  told  I  should  have 
difficulty  here.  I  was  told  you  only  go  to  church 
twice  on  Sundays.  I  did  not  expect  to  find  you 
so  bad  as  you  are.  I  shall  come  again.  I  am 
not  so  easily  beaten.  I  shall  certainly  come 
again!" 

In  grim  silence  she  gathered  her  skirts  about 
her  and  departed  as  she  had  come,  followed  by 
the  footman  and  the  fat  pug. 

When  she  had  turned  the  corner  the  Walk 
once  more  indulged  in  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"What  a  figure  of  fun!"  cried  Ruth. 

"I  gave  here  her  sailing  orders  —  what.?" 
chuckled  the  Admiral. 

And  Mrs.  Poskett  gazed  into  his  face  with 
admiration. 


POMANDER     WALK 


» 


"What  a  wonderful  man  you  are,  Sir  Peter! 

When  they  had  all  recovered,  Basil  came  to 
Marjolaine  and  eagerly  reminded  her  it  was  high 
time  for  her  singing-lesson. 

Marjolaine  appealed  to  Barbara:  "Maman 
told  me  to  ask  you  to  come  with  me." 

Barbara  gave  a  little  hop  of  delight,  but 
Ruth  exclaimed,  "Shall  I  take  your  place, 
dear?" 

"No,  no,"  cried  Barbara,  almost  as  If  she 
were  in  a  fright,  "I  love  to  hear  her."  Barbara, 
Marjolaine,  and  Basil  moved  slowly  towards 
Number  Three,  while  Ruth  approached  Mrs. 
Poskett.  "Will  you  come  in  and  take  a  dish 
of  tea.?" 

"No,"  replied  Mrs.  Poskett,  "no,  thank  you," 
and  then,  with  a  giggle,  "  I  'm  going  —  you  '11 
never  guess!  —  I  'm  going  to  comb  my  wig." 

Seeing  the  ladies  all  strolling  towards  their 
houses  the  Admiral  once  more  challenged  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  to  play  oflF  the  rubber  at  quoits. 
But  he  declined.  "I  think  not.  Sir  Peter. 
Selina  will  be  expecting  me." 

Mrs.  Poskett  stopped.  "I  wonder  you  can 
bear  to  leave  her  so  much  alone." 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  felt  the  implied  reproach. 
With  a  countenance  full  of  woe,  he  replied, 
"It  tears  my  heart-strings,  ma'am;  but  she  will 
have  it  so.  'Brooke,'  she  says  —  or  'Jerome,' 
as  the  case  may  be  —  'your  place  Is  In  the  fash- 

58 


POMANDER     WALK 

ionable   world,   among   the   bote   tonn,'     So   I 
sacrifice  my  inclination  to  her  pleasure." 

"How  unselfish  of  you!"  said  Ruth. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  continued  more  cheer- 
fully. "She  has  many  innocent  pastimes.  At 
the  present  moment  the  dear  soul  is  joyously 
darning  my  socks." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Poskett  and  the  other  ladies 
were  on  their  respective  door-steps.  Mrs.  Poskett 
gave  a  startled  cry  and  called  the  Admiral's 
attention  to  the  corner  of  the  Walk,  where  four 
men  in  livery  had  just  deposited  a  sedan  chair. 
"Company,  Sir  Peter!"  she  cried. 

Sir  Peter  turned  abruptly  and  examined  the 
person  who  was  with  difficulty  emerging  from 
the  sedan.  "Eh? —  Gobblessmysoul!  Is  it 
possible  ?  —  My  old  friend,  Lord  Otford ! "  He 
bustled  up  to  the  newcomer,  shouting  "Otford! 
Otford!" 

Now  the  name  had  had  a  magical  effect  on 
Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn.  At  the  sound  of  it  the 
colour  had  all  vanished  from  his  fat  cheeks,  the 
strength  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  his  legs, 
and  his  knees  were  knocking  together.  "Lord 
Otford,  by  all  that's  unlucky!"  he  exclaimed. 

Mrs.  Poskett  had  swept  back  to  the  elm.  She 
happened  to  have  a  very  becoming  dress  on,  and 
she  was  determined  the  noble  lord  should  see  it. 
She  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  face. 
"What's  the  matter?" 

59 


POMANDER     WALK 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  pulled  himself  together 
with  a  mighty  effort.  "Nothing,  ma'am." 
Then  with  great  dignity,  "He  and  I  differ  in 
politics.  There  might  be  bloodshed."  And 
while  Mrs.  Poskett  exclaimed  "Well,  I  never!" 
he  had  dashed  into  his  house  as  a  rabbit  dashes 
into  its  burrow. 

Mrs.  Poskett  sailed  up  to  her  house  trying  to 
catch  his  lordship's  eye.  I  am  afraid  all  the  ladies 
were  anxious  to  be  noticed,  for  all  lingered  at 
their  doors.  A  real,  live  lord  was  not  an  ordinary 
sight  in  Pomander  Walk.  And  this  one  happened 
to  be  a  handsome  one;  well  set  up,  dressed  in 
the  height  of  fashion,  yet  quietly,  as  a  gentle- 
man should  dress;  and  carrying  his  forty-five 
years  as  though  they  had  been  no  more  than 
thirty. 

"You're  looking  well,  Peter!"  he  exclaimed, 
still  shaking  the  Admiral  by  the  hand. 

"My  dear  Jack!  My  dear  old  Jack!"  cried 
the  latter.     "Here!  come  into  the  house!" 

"No,  no,"  laughed  his  friend,  with  a  suspicious 
glance  at  the  diminutive  window.  "Stuffy.  No. 
Looks  pleasant  under  the  elm." 

"Why,  come  along,  then!"  shouted  the  Ad- 
miral, dragging  him  towards  the  tree. 

Lord  Otford  took  off  his  hat  to  Mrs.  Poskett 
with  an  elaborate  bow.  "I  say,  Peter,  in  clover, 
you  rascal!" 

"Dam  fine  woman  —  what?" 

60 


POMANDER     WALK 

Here  Lord  Otford  caught  sight  of  Marjolaine 
just  disappearing  in  the  doorway  of  Number 
Three.  He  stopped  short.  "Ay,  and  pretty 
gel  on  door-step."  Then,  as  if  struck  by  a  sudden 
thought,  "By  Jove!" 

"Dainty  little  thing,  eh.^"  said  the  Admiral 
with  a  chuckle. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  nobleman,  pensively.  "Re- 
minds me  vaguely  —  "  but  he  changed  the  sub- 
ject.   "Well!    You're  hale  and  hearty!" 

"Nothing  amiss  with  you,  neither,"  laughed 
Sir  Peter,  sitting  on  the  bench  and  drawing  his 
friend  down  beside  him.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you! 
Thought  you  was  in  Russia." 

"Got  home  a  month  ago,  Peter.  Not  married 
yet.?" 

"Peter  Antrobus  married.?  That's  a  good 
'un."    Up  went  the  Admiral's  finger  to  his  nose. 

"No,  my  Lord.     All  women,  yes.     One  woman, 

^^  I" 
no! 

"Sure  nobody  can  hear  us.?" 

Sir  Peter  looked  round  cautiously.  Save  for 
the  Eyesore,  absorbed  in  his  placid  effort  to 
catch  fish,  there  was  no  sign  of  life  in  the  Walk. 
Nobody  was  visible  at  the  windows.  From 
Number  Three  came  the  sound  of  a  fresh  young 
voice  singing  scales  and  arpeggios. 

"Quite  safe.  Jack,"  said  he. 

"Peter,  I  want  your  help." 

"Woman?"  asked  Sir  Peter. 

6i 


POAIANDER     WALK 


"Yes.  Not  my  woman,  though,  this  time. 
It's  about  my  boy  —  Jack." 

"Aha!  Got  into  a  mess.''  Chip  of  the  old 
block  — what.?" 

"No,  no.    Marriage." 

"Gobblessmysoull    How  old  is  he.''" 

"Twenty-five." 

"Good  Lord!" 

"I  want  to  see  Jack  settled.  There  's  the  suc- 
cession to  think  of." 

"You  talk  as  though  you  was  a  king." 

"Well,  so  I  am,  in  a  small  way.  Think  of  the 
estate!    I  want  Jack  to  take  the  reins." 

"How  can  he,  when  he  's  on  the  sea?" 

"He's  to  retire  as  soon  as  hegets  his  Captaincy." 

The  Admiral  jumped  up.  "Retire!  Now! 
With  Boney  ready  to  gobble  us  up!" 

Otford  drew  him  down  again.  "Don't  you 
see?  With  all  this  battle  and  bloodshed,  now 's 
the  time  for  Jack  to  give  me  a  grandson.  He  's 
my  only  child,  remember.  Why,  hang  it,  man, 
if  he  was  to  die  without  issue,  the  title  and  the 
estates  would  go  to  that  infernal  whig  scoundrel, 
James  Sayle." 

"That  won't  do,"  Sir  Peter  assented,  wisely 
nodding  his  head. 

"Of  course  it  won't.  Now,  there's  old  Wen- 
dover's  gel  —  Caroline  Thring." 

The  Admiral  made  a  wry  face.  "Caroline 
Thring?     I've  heard  of  her.     Never  seen  her: 

62 


Carolink  Thking 


POMANDER     WALK 

but  heard  of  her.  Eccentric  party,  ain't  she? 
And  did  n't  I  hear  there  was  an  affair  with  Young 
Beauchamp?" 

"That's  fallen  through.  She's  an  estimable 
person." 

"Ugh,"  said  the  Admiral. 

"People  call  her  eccentric,"  Lord  Otford  con- 
tinued, hotly,  "because  she  goes  about  doing 
good  —  distributing  alms  —  " 

The  Admiral  was  about  to  exclaim,  but  Ot- 
ford gave  him  no  time.  "You  're  prejudiced,  you 
old  reprobate.  Wendover  's  willing,  and  there 's 
nothing  In  the  way.  The  estates  join.  She  's 
sole  heiress.  Gad,  sir,  that  alliance  would  make 
Jack  the  biggest  man  in  the  Three  Kingdoms." 

"Is  Jack  fond  of  her.?" 

"Does  n't  object  to  her.  Hesitates.  Says  he 
don't  want  to  marry  at  all.  Says  he  has  n't  had 
his  fling." 

"Well  —  what 's  it  all  got  to  do  with  me.?" 

"Ever  since  Jack's  been  home  on  leave,  he's 
done  nothing  but  talk  about  you  —  " 

"Good  lad!"  cried  Sir  Peter, slapping  his  thigh. 
"I  loved  him  when  he  was  a  middy  on  board  the 
Termagant.^^ 

"And  he  loves  you.  Coming  to  look  you  up. 
To-day,  very  likely.  When  he  comes,  refer  to 
Caroline  —  carelessly.  Say  what  a  fine  gel  she 
is.  Don't  say  a  word  about  the  estate.  These 
young   whipper-snappers    have   such    high-and- 

63 


POMANDER     WALK 

mighty  ideas  about  marrying  for  money.  Refer 
to  young  Beauchamp.  Say  in  your  time  young 
fellers  did  n't  let  other  young  fellers  cut  'em  out. 
See?" 

"You're  a  wily  old  fox,  Jack.  But,  hark'ee! 
Sure  he's  not  in  love  with  anybody  else.^" 

"He  says  he  is  n't.  Oh,  there  may  be  a  Spanish 
Senorita!  —  Gad!  I  should  almost  be  ashamed 
of  him  if  there  wasn't!  —  But  there's  no — ■ 
no  — 

"No  Lucy  Pryor.'"  said  theAdmiral  carelessly. 

The  name  seemed  to  fall  on  Lord  Otford  like 
a  blow.  He  sat  quite  still  a  moment,  looking 
straight  before  him  into  who  knows  what  mem- 
ories. At  last  he  said  very  sadly,  "No.  No  Lucy 
Pryor." 

The  Admiral  realised  his  own  tactlessness. 
He  took  Lord  Otford's  hand.  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Jack.    I  'm  sorry." 

"It  still  hurts,  Peter,"  said  his  Lordship  with 
a  wistful  smile.  "Like  an  old  bullet.  —  Well! 
You  '11  do  what  you  can,  eh  .^  —  I  don't  want  you 
to  overdo  it.  Just  edge  him  in  the  right  direc- 
tion." 

"Keep  his  eye  In  the  wind,  what?" 

"That's  it.  —  Well?  Any  new-comers  in  the 
Walk?" 

"Yes,"  chuckled  the  Admiral,  "two  oil  lamps. 
One  in  front  of  my  house,  and  one  in  front  of 
Sternroyd's.      They    wanted    to   give    us    their 

64 


POMANDER     WALK 

new-fangled,  stinking  gas,  but  the  whole  Walk 
mutinied." 

"Veryfine,  but  — " 

"They  're  only  used  when  there  's  no  moon." 

"But  I  meant  new  people!" 

"Oh!  Ah!  Yes!  —  "  Then  with  a  sort  of 
smack  of  the  lips  indicative  of  the  highest  ap- 
preciation, "A  French  widow  and  her  daughter." 

At  once  Lord  Otford  showed  a  lively  interest. 
"French,  eh.?  —  What?  the  little  gel  I  saw 
going  in?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  Admiral,  rising  and 
leading  his  friend  towards  the  Gazebo  where  his 
whisper  would  no  longer  make  the  windows  of 
the  Walk  rattle.  "Yes.  They're  not  really 
French,  y'  know.  Mother 's  the  widow  of  a 
Frenchman.    Madame  Lachesnais." 

This  sounded  very  dull.  His  Lordship  stifled 
a  yawn,  but  he  noticed  the  Admiral's  kindling 
eye,  and  felt  constrained  to  continue  the  subject. 

"Pleasant?" 

"De-lightful!"  answered  Sir  Peter,  kissing  the 
tips  of  his  fingers  at  an  imaginary  ideal.  "The 
Walk  was  shy  of  'em  at  first.  So  was  L  Thought 
they  was  foreigners.  Foreigners  are  all  very 
well  for  you  and  me.  Jack.  We  're  men  o'  the 
world.  But  think  of  Mrs.  Poskett!  Think  of  the 
Misses  Pennymint!  Think  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Brooke-Hoskyn ! " 

Lord  Otford  started  slightly  at  the  last  name. 

65 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Eh?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  what.?" 

"Brooke-Hoskyn.  Sh!"  pointing  to  the  house 
with  his  thumb.  "Very  distinguished  man. 
Moves  in  the  highest  circles.  Hote  tonn,  Jack. 
Dines  in  town  regularly  four  times  a  week." 

"Man  of  family.?"  asked  Lord  Otford. 

"Family.?"  roared  the  Admiral.  "Well,  I 
should  say  so.  Four  little  gels  in  five  years,  and 
more  to  come!    Never  met  him.?" 

"I  seem  to  remember  a  man  called  Hoskyn," 
said  his  friend  nonchalantly. 

The  Admiral  shook  his  head  in  dismissal  of 
the  undistinguished  Hoskyn.  "No,  no.  This  is 
Brooke-Hoskyn;  Brooke  —  h'm  —  Hoskyn;  with 
a  hyphen." 

Lord  Otford  had  had  enough  of  Brooke-Hos- 
kyn.   "Go  on  about  the  French  widow." 

"Well,  one  morning  their  shay  was  sig- 
nalled from  the  back  of  the  Misses  Pennymint. 
We  'd  all  been  watching  for  their  coming,  y'  know, 
because  of  their  house  having  been  painted  white 
—  but  that 's  another  yarn  altogether.  Shays 
can't  get  beyond  the  corner  of  Pomander  Lane; 
so  I  had  time  to  put  on  my  uniform,  and  my 
medals,  and  my  cocked  hat  —  " 

"Meant  to  show  'em  you  was  Admiral  on 
your  own  quarter-deck,  eh.?" 

"That 's  it.  And  then  — "  the  Admiral  glowed 
with  enthusiasm  —  "well,  then  Madame  came 
round  the  corner;  and  then  Mademerzell.    They 

66 


POMANDER     WALK 

did  n't  walk,  Jack,  they  floated.  And  what  did 
I  do?  I  just  sneaked  back  into  harbour,  and 
struck  my  colours.  Yes! —  She  was  the  most 
gracious  creature  I  'd  ever  seen.  And  the  gel  — ! 
Well,  you  saw  her."  He  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  then  added  in  a  curiously  subdued  voice: 
"They  brought  something  new  into  the  Walk." 

Lord  Otford  looked  at  him  enquiringly.  "What 
do  you  mean.'*" 

It  was  some  little  time  before  Sir  Peter  an- 
swered. He  sat  gazing  into  vacancy  a  moment, 
like  a  man  who  is  remembering  happier  things, 
calling  up  a  mental  picture  of  a  beautiful  land- 
scape —  or  perhaps  of  a  beautiful  face  —  sud- 
denly smitten  by  the  recollection  of  his  own 
youth.  At  last,  with  something  like  a  sigh  he 
went  on. 

"We're  rather  an  elderly  lot,  y' know.  Be- 
yond our  springtime.  Jack,  and  that 's  the  truth. 
When  we  sit  and  think,  we  think  of  the  past,  and 
try  not  to  think  of  the  future.  And,  suddenly, 
here  was  this  Grace  and  Beauty  and  Youth  in 
the  midst  of  us.  It  gave  the  Walk  a  shock,  I 
can  tell  ye.  All  the  women  lay-to  in  repairing- 
dock  for  days.  Mrs.  Poskett  never  showed  her 
nose  till  she  'd  got  a  new  wig  from  town;  Pringle 
tells  me  he  caught  poor  little  Barbara  Penny- 
mint  looking  at  herself  in  the  glass  and  crying; 
and  Brooke-Hoskyn  says  his  wife,  who  had 
watched  'em  come  from  her  window,  not  being 

67 


POMANDER     WALK 

able  to  get  downstairs,  poor  soul,  sobbed  her 
heart  out  and  made  him  swear  he  loved 
her." 

"By  Jove!"  cried  LordOtford,  "you  make  me 
want  to  see  these  paragons!" 

"Well,  Madame  's  only  gone  shopping.  She  '11 
be  back  directly.  Wait,  and  I  '11  present 
you." 

"No,"  said  his  friend,  signalling  to  the  sedan- 
bearers.  "Not  to-day.  I'm  on  my  way  to  old 
Wendover,  at  Brentford." 

"Ah!  That  marriage!  Well,  I  hope  I  shall 
see  Jack  soon." 

"You'll  help  me,  won't  you.?" 

"I  will.     I  will.    God  bless  you." 

Sir  Peter  escorted  his  friend  to  the  sedan;  saw 
him  safely  into  it  and  walked  at  its  side  until  it 
turned  the  corner.  As  he  came  back  he  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Marjolaine,  who  had 
finished  her  lesson  and  was  coming  out  of  Num- 
ber Three  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 

"There,  now,  Missie,"  he  cried,  "if  you'd 
come  a  moment  earlier,  I'd  have  presented  you 
to  a  very  great  man!" 

"Oh.?" 

At  his  door  the  Admiral  put  his  hand  up  to 
his  mouth  and  whispered  confidentially  —  a 
confidential  whisper  which  could  have  been 
heard  the  other  side  of  the  river  —  "I  say!  — 
We  '11  have  a  go  at  that  horn-pipe  by-and-bv 

68 


POMANDER     WALK 

—  what?"     And    chuckling    he    went    into  his 
house. 

Marjolaine  came  slowly  to  the  elm,  seated 
herself,  and  proceeded  to  read  the  "Adventures 
of  Telemachus." 


69 


HAPTER  V 


CONCERNING 

WHAT 

YOU 

HAVE 

ALL 

BEEN 

WAITING 

FOR 


THE  sun  shone;  the  thrush  sang;  the 
leaves  of  the  elm  rustled;  the  great 
river  flowed  silently;  the  breeze  came 
and  kissed  Marjolaine  and  whispered  "Wake 
up!  Wake  up!  Something  is  going  to  happen!" 
But  she  could  not  hear.  She  only  thought  Tel- 
emachus  was  even  duller  than  usual,  and  as 
she  read  of  Mentor  she  thought  of  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Sternroyd.  Presently  —  whether  it  was 
the  breeze  that  blew  her  thoughts  away,  or  the 
singing  of  the  thrush,  I  cannot  say  —  she  lost 
the  thread  of  the  story;  stopped  thinking  at  all; 
and  just  sat  with  her  elbow  on  her  knee  and  her 
chin  in  her  hand,  looking  with  her  great  brown 
eyes  into  —  what? 

70 


POMANDER     WALK 

The  Eyesore  saw  her.  I  cannot  dip  into  the 
Eyesore's  mind,  I  cannot  tell  you  what  influ- 
enced him.  I  only  know  he  grew  restless.  He 
looked  at  her  over  his  shoulder  once  or  twice 
as  she  sat  there,  "In  maiden  meditation,  fancy 
free,"  and  suddenly  he  got  up,  laid  his  rod  care- 
fully across  the  chains,  and  stole  out  on  tip- 
toe. Was  it  a  glimmering  sense  that  he  was  no 
company  for  this  pretty  maid  lost  in  thought.? 
Was  it  a  dim  realisation  that  his  ungainly  figure 
had  no  business  to  intrude  on  her  meditations.'* 
Whatever  the  cause,  he  stole  out  on  tip-toe  and 
was  lost  to  sight.    Perhaps  he  was  only  thirsty. 

Marjolaine  did  not  notice  his  going.  Nor 
did  she  see  Jack  come.  Jack  came  apparently 
out  of  the  river.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  tied  his 
boat  to  a  ring  at  the  foot  of  Pomander  Stairs 
and  leaped  on  shore.  A  delightful  young  fellow, 
the  sort  of  young  man  you  take  to,  the  moment 
you  set  eyes  on  him.  Obviously  a  sailor.  His 
lieutenant's  undress  jacket  was  over  his  arm.  A 
wiry  figure,  lissome  as  a  willow  and  as  tough  as 
steel;  a  face  tanned  by  many  suns;  true  sailor's 
eyes  looking  frankly  and  fearlessly  at  the  world. 

He  was  evidently  in  search  of  something  or 
somebody.  He  came  down  the  Walk  examining 
all  the  houses  curiously;  and  suddenly  he  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Marjolaine. 

His  shadow  fell  across  her  book.  She  looked 
up;  and  their  eyes  met. 

71 


POMANDER     WALK 

Marjolaine  was  much  too  well-bred  to  show 
any  surprise,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was 
very  much  surprised  indeed.  Here  was  a  new 
and  terrible  situation.  A  total  stranger  standing 
looking  at  her;  her  mother  and  Nanette  gone  to 
Chiswick;  the  Admiral  shut  in  his  house;  and 
not  another  soul  in  sight.  Even  the  Eyesore 
would  have  been  a  sort  of  moral  support,  but 
even  the  Eyesore  had  deserted  her.  However: 
Courage!  If  she  went  on  with  her  book  the 
stranger  would  go.  So  she  went  on  with  her 
book,  grimly. 

But  the  stranger  did  not  move.  When  a 
young  sailor-man  sees  an  extremely  pretty  girl, 
his  instinct  is  to  stand  still  and  look.  Jack  stood 
still.  I  will  not  say  he  was  not  nervous.  He  was. 
But  he  conquered  his  nervousness,  like  the  brave 
fellow  he  was,  and  stood  his  ground. 

Marjolaine  began  to  get  angry.  This  was  an 
outrage.  She  looked  up  at  him  once  more,  and 
this  time  there  was  a  flash  in  her  eyes  which 
was  meant  to  annihilate  him.  It  did.  If  she  had 
not  looked  up,  he  might  ultimately  have  gone 
reluctantly  away.  But  this  look  finished  him 
and  rooted  him  to  the  spot. 

Marjolaine  returned  to  her  book.  But  Tel- 
emachus  had  taken  on  a  new  shape.  He  had 
laughing  blue  eyes  and  he  carried  a  naval 
jacket  with  gold  buttons  over  his  arm.  Also  he 
stood    looking    at    her.      This    was    intolerable. 

72 


POMANDER  WALK 

If  the  stranger  would  not  move,  she  must.  It 
went  horribly  against  her  pride  to  retreat  in  the 
face  of  the  enemy,  but  if  the  enemy  would  n't 
retreat,  what  were  you  to  do? 

She  closed  the  book  with  an  angry  bang  and 
rose  to  her  feet.  The  movement  roused  Jack 
to  a  sense  of  his  own  inexplicable  behaviour. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  he  stammered,  invol- 
untarily. 

Marjolaine  eyed  him  haughtily  from  head  to 
foot.  She  had  read  somewhere  that  this  is  what 
a  well-bred  young  woman  should  do  under  similar 
circumstances. 

"Why.^"  said  she,  raising  her  eyebrows. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  said  '  Why  ^ ' "  cried  Jack, 
with  evident  relief. 

Marjolaine  had  not  expected  this.  She  was 
genuinely  puzzled  and  a  little  off  her  guard.  She 
could  only  repeat,  but  this  time  quite  naturally, 
"Why?" 

"Well,"  said  Jack,  very  volubly,  "if  you  'd 
said,  'There's  no  occasion,' or  if  you  hadn't 
said  anything,  our  conversation  would  have 
been  finished,  you  know." 

Marjolaine  could  have  stamped  with  vexation. 
Of  course  she  ought  to  have  said  nothing.  And 
here  she  was  entrapped  into  what  this  very  bold 
young  man  described  as  a  "conversation"! 

"The  conversation  is  finished,"  she  said, 
trying  to  pass  him. 

73 


POMANDER     WALK 

But  he  held  up  his  hand.  "No.  It 's  my  turn 
to  ask  you  a  question!" 

^'Hein?^'  she  cried,  more  than  ever  on  her 
dignity.  He  had  the  impudence  to  accuse  her 
of  asking  him  a  question! 

Jack  remembered  his  manners.  With  a  low 
bow  he  presented  himself.  "I'm  Jack  Sayle, 
at  your  service.  I  'm  a  lieutenant  in  the  Navy; 
and  I  've  just  rowed  down  from  Richmond  — 
three  miles.  I  'm  home  on  leave;  and  I  'm 
looking  for  an  old  friend." 

"All  that  is  very  interesting,"  said  Marjolaine, 
"but  it  is  n't  a  question,"  and  once  more  she 
tried  to  get  by. 

Jack  felt  rather  injured.  She  might  have  shown 
a  little  more  interest  in  the  autobiography  he  had 
just  favoured  her  with.  "  I  thought  it  was  polite 
to  tell  you  who  I  was.  As  for  the  question :  it 's 
uncommon  hot,  and  when  I  saw  this  terrace  I 
said  there  'd  be  sure  to  be  one  here.     Is  there  .^" 

"What?"  cried  Marjolaine,  this  time  really 
stamping  her  foot. 

"An  inn.?" 
'Certainly  not." 
Can't  you  tell  me  where  there  is  one.'"' 

"I  do  not  frequent  them,"  answered  she, 
freezingly. 

"No.?"  said  Jack,  crestfallen.  "Sorry.  I  afn 
dry.  You  see,  I  've  rowed  all  the  way  from 
Richmond.     Five  miles." 

74 


"< 
«< 


POMANDER  WALK 

Marjolaine  had  manoeuvred  safely  inside  her 
own  gate.  She  felt  she  could  afford  a  parting 
shot  at  him.  "  I  'm  afraid  you  '11  have  to  row  all 
the  way  back  again.  Good  afternoon."  By  this 
time  her  hand  grasped  the  handle  of  the  door. 

Jack  addressed  the  world  in  general.  "Curi- 
ous, how  different  everything  is." 

Marjolaine  turned.    "Different  what  is.?" 

"Why,  if  I  'd  met  an  old  gentleman  outside 
his  house  in  Spain,  and  he  'd  seen  how  I  was 
suffering,  he  'd  have  said  his  house  was  mine." 

Marjolaine  indignantly  came  down  one  step. 
"I  am  not  an  old  gentleman;  I  haven't  any 
house  in  Spain;  and  it 's  a  shame  to  say  I  'm 
inhospitable!" 

Jack's  face  wore  an  inscrutable  smile.  He 
protested.  "I  didn't.  I  only  said  it  was 
different." 

Marjolaine  came  back  to  the  gate. 

"Are  you  really  suffering?"  she  asked. 

Jack  turned  away  to  hide  an  unmistakable 
grin.  He  spoke  in  a  hollow  voice.  "  Intolerably." 
Then  he  turned  to  her  with  a  haggard  counte- 
nance.    "Look  at  my  face!" 

Marjolaine  came  out  of  the  gate.  Ah,  Mar- 
jolaine!   The  moth  and  the  candle! 

"  I  can't  ask  you  In,  because  Maman  and 
Nanette  are  out." 

Jack  staggered  to  the  seat  under  the  elm, 
and  sank  on  It  like  a  man  In  the  last  stage  of 

75 


POMANDER  WALK 

exhaustion.  "It's  of  no  consequence.  I  must 
row  back.  Seven  miles.  Against  the  tide. 
Ah,  well!" 

Marjolaine  was  genuinely  sorry  for  him. 
He  really  was  very  good-looking. 

"I'm  sure  Maman  would  ask. you  In,  if  she 
were  here." 

"I  'm  quite  sure  of  that." 

"And  I  think  she  would  not  like  me  to  be  — 
as  you  say  —  inhospitable." 

"I  didn't  say  it;  but  I'm  quite  sure  she 
would  n't." 

Marjolaine's  kind  little  heart  was  quite  melted. 
This  good-looking  young  man  spoke  so  very 
humbly. 

"  I  might  —  I  might  bring  you  out  some- 
thing —  " 

A  gleam  of  triumph  crossed  Jack's  face,  but 
he  answered  with  the  air  of  a  martyr:  "Oh! 
don't  trouble!" 

Marjolaine's  sense  of  the  proprieties  got  the 
better  of  her  again.  "What  would  the  neighbours 
say  if  they  saw  me  feeding  an  entire  stranger.^" 

Jack  leaped  up  in  indignant  protest.  "But 
I  'm  not!  I  've  told  you  my  name.  That 's  as 
much  as  anybody  ever  knows  about  anybody!" 

Marjolaine  was  now  in  the  shadow  of  the  elm. 
She  examined  every  house  in  the  Walk.  "Num- 
ber One  's  asleep;  Number  Two  's  combing  her 
wig;  Number  Three  's  working;  Number  Five's 

76 


POMANDER     WALK 

nursing  one  of  the  four;  and  Number  Six"  — 
poor  Doctor  Sternroyd!  —  "doesn't  matter. 
I  '11  risk  it."  She  turned  to  go  in,  but  stopped. 
"What  would  you  like?" 

Jack  protested,  "Oh,  my  dear  young  lady!  — 
It 's  not  for  me  to  say.  Anything  you  offer  me 
—  anything!  " 

Ticking  the  items  off  on  her  pretty  fingers, 
Marjolaine  enumerated  the  various  beverages 
stored  in  her  mother's  cupboard.  "We  have 
elderberry  wine;  cowslip  wine;  red-currant  wine; 
and  gooseberry  wine." 

Jack's  face  was  a  study.  It  had  grown  so 
long  that  Marjolaine  exclaimed  with  genuine 
sympathy,  "Why,  you  look  quite  ill!  Which  do 
you  say.^" 

It  was  a  choice  between  poison  and  discourtesy, 
but  Jack  was  equal  to  it.  "I  've  been  brought 
up  very  simply.  I  should  never  have  the  pre- 
sumption to  ask  for  any  of  those.  Have  n't  you 
any  ale.'"' 

"Ale!"  cried  Marjolaine,  "how  low!" 

"I  said  I  'd  been  brought  up  simply." 

"We  have  no  ale." 

Before  he  could  stop  himself  Jack  had  cried 
"And  this  is  England!" 

But  Marjolaine  had  had  an  idea.  "I  know! 
There  's  Maman's  claret.  She  takes  it  for  her 
health.     What  do  you  say  to  that?''^ 

Jack  had  not  tried  it,  and  did  n't  know  what 

77 


POMANDER     WALK 

he  might  be  likely  to  say  to  it.  He  could  only 
stammer,  "Oh,  it 's  better  than  —  better  than —  " 
he  was  going  to  add  elderberry,  or  cowslip,  but 
caught  himself  up  in  time  —  "  better  than  ale." 

"Ah!  —  Now,  will  you  wait  a  moment  under 
the  tree.?" 

"I  '11  wait  hours,  anywhere!" 

Marjolaine  caught  sight  of  a  figure  moving 
about  in  Number  Three.  She  came  on  tip-toe 
to  Jack.  You  see,  by  this  time  there  was  quite 
a  conspiracy  between  them. 

"No!  Better!"  she  whispered.  "Go  Into  the 
Gazebo." 

Jack  could  only  stare  at  her.    "  Into  the  what .? " 

She  ran  across  to  the  summer-house.  Jack 
following  her. 

"Here,"  she  cried,  "in  the  summer-house. 
And  keep  quite  still." 

For  a  moment  a  horrible  suspicion  crossed 
Jack's  mind.  "I  say!  You  will  come  back.^* 
You  're  not  going  to  leave  me  here  to  perish 
of  thirst.?" 

"That  would  be  a  good  joke!"  she  laughed. 
T  '11  carve  your  name  while  you  're  gone!" 
'No,  you  won't!" 

"Why  not.?" 

"Because  you  don't  know  it! — Foila!** 

And  before  he  could  stop  her  she  had  tripped 
into  the  house. 

Jack  sat  for  a  moment  in  a  sort  of  silent  rapture. 

78 


POMANDER     WALK 

Then  all  he  said  to  himself  was  "By  George!" 
three  times  repeated;  and  if  you  don't  know 
what  that  exclamation  meant,  I  'm  sure  I  can't 
tell  you. 

Marjolaine  had  left  the  "Adventures  of  Tele- 
machus"  on  the  seat  in  the  Gazebo.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances  Jack  would  have  avoided 
picking  up  a  book;  but  this  was  her  book;  it 
had  been  in  her  hands;  her  eyes  had  looked  at 
it;  it  was  not  so  much  a  book  as  a  part  of  the 
little  goddess;  so  he  picked  it  up  tenderly  and 
tenderly  opened  it.  There,  on  the  fly-page,  was 
a  name. — "Lucy  Pryor  "  — Of  course !  Her  name  1 
Lucy  Pryor  —  just  the  sort  of  pretty,  simple 
name  she  would  have.  Aha!  but  now  he'd 
astonish  her!  She  should  find  he  had  carved 
her  name,  after  all!  Out  came  his  sailor's  knife, 
and  to  work  he  went,  and  as  he  carved  he  sang 
a  little  song  to  himself,  the  words  of  which  were, 
"Lucy,  Lucy,  Lucy  Pryor."     He  was  not  a  poet. 

The  Eyesore  came  slowly  round  the  corner. 
Seeing  the  little  lady  was  no  longer  on  the  seat, 
he  drew  his  line  out  of  the  water  —  I  need 
hardly  record  the  fact  that  there  was  no  fish 
on  it.  With  a  sigh  he  seated  himself  on  his  box, 
with  his  back  to  the  Walk;  patiently  he  placed 
a  new  worm  on  the  empty  hook,  and  in  a  moment 
he  was  immersed  in  his  contemplative  occu- 
pation.    There  was  utter  silence  in  the  Walk. 

Then   the   upstairs  window  of   Number  Five 

79 


POMANDER     WALK 

was  thrust  open  and  Mr.  Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
at  his  ease  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  enjoying  a 
church-warden  pipe,  leant  out.  He  was  evi- 
dently conversing  with  his  wife,  and  was  in  his 
tenderest   mood. 

"What  a  pity,  my  dearest  Selina,  you  are 
temporarily  deprived  of  the  use  of  your  limbs! 
The  river  is  flowing  by —  What.''  Do  I  expect 
it  to  stop.''  No,  of  course  I  don't.  Why  check 
my  musings.^  I  say,  the  river  is  flowing  by. 
Not  a  living  thing  is  in  sight  except  the  Eyesore; 
and  he  enhances  the  beauty  of  his  surroundings 
by  sheer  contrast.  My  smoke  does  not  in- 
commode you,  my  own.''  —  You  can  bear  it.^  — 
Dear  soul!  Am  I  the  man  to  deprive  you  of  an 
innocent  pleasure.^  — •" 

He  might  have  gone  on  all  the  afternoon  in 
this  strain,  but  at  this  moment  Marjolaine 
came  very  cautiously  out  of  her  house  carrying 
a  tray  on  which  was  a  bottle  of  claret,  a  tumbler, 
and  a  cake.  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  imme- 
diately absorbed  in  this  new  and  inexplicable 
phenomenon.  What  could  it  mean. ^  He  watched 
Marjolaine  half-way  across  the  lawn.  Then  in 
his  softest  and  most  caressing  tones  he  ex- 
claimed, "Why,  Miss  Marjory —  !"  Marjorlaine 
gave  a  little  cry  and  very  nearly  let  all  the  things 
drop.    She  stood  aghast. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  continued,  "Is  your 
mother  in  the  Gazebo.'*" 

80 


Mk.  Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn,  at  his  ease 


POMANDER     WALK 

Before  Marjolalne  could  think  of  anything 
to  say  she  had  said  "No." 

"Indeed?  — Then  why  this  genteel  refection?" 
Here  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  forced  to  look 
over  his  shoulder  into  the  room  and  answer  the 
invisible  Selina.  "Yes,  my  own.  I  am  speaking 
to  Miss  Marjory." 

Meanwhile  Jack  was  signalling  frantically  to 
Marjolaine,  who,  on  her  part,  was  as  frantically 
motioning  him  to  keep  still.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  again  leant  forward,  and  Jack  vanished 
only  just  in  time. 

Marjolalne  explained.  "I  —  I  always  take  a 
little  refreshment  at  this  hour." 

It  was  quite  obvious  that  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
did  not  believe  her. 

"How  singularly  unobservant  I  am!  I  have 
never  noticed  it.  Wait  one  moment.  I  '11  come 
and  help  you." 

This  would  never  do.  "No,  thank  you,"  cried 
Marjolaine,  "I  am  sure  your  wife  wants  you." 
And  she  added,  as  a  parting  shot,  "She  sees  so 
little  of  you!" 

Then  taking  her  courage  in  both  hands  she 
hurried  into  the  Gazebo,  where  she  and  Jack 
stood,  pictures  of  horror,  silently  awaiting  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn's  next  move. 

The  latter  leant  far  out  of  his  window  vainly 
endeavouring  to  peer  round  the  corner.  "Curi- 
ous, very  curious,"  he  muttered. 

8i 


POMANDER     WALK 


((' 


'Did  you  hear  him?"  asked  Marjory,  in  a 
tragic  whisper. 

"If  he  comes  here  I'll  punch  his  head," 
growled  Jack. 

"Be  quiet!"  —  And  again  they  both  listened. 

But  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  attention  was  en- 
gaged by  Selina,  and  it  was  clear  from  his  remarks 
that  the  dear  lady  was  not  in  her  pleasantest 
humour.  "No,  my  dear,  of  course  I  did  n't 
mean  to  go.  —  Do  you  think  her  an  ugly  little 
thing?  —  Matter  of  taste.  —  Oh,  come!  Not 
jealous,  my  own  one?  —  Hold  your  hand?  — 
Oh,  certainly,  if  you  wish  it!"  And  down  came 
the  window  with  a  crash  and  what  sounded  very 
like  a  fine  Saxon  monosyllable. 

Marjolaine  and  Jack,  hearing  the  window 
close,  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Thank  goodness!"  cried  Marjolaine;  and 
then,  being  a  daughter  of  Eve,  "Now  you  see 
what  you  've  done!" 

'"Pon  my  honour,  I  've  done  nothing.  Just 
waited  hours." 

"Hours,  indeed!"  said  the  girl,  scornfully. 

"It  seemed  hours,"  answered  Jack,  insinu- 
atingly. "It  seemed  hours  —  Miss  —  Lucy 
Pryor." 

"Lucy  Pryor?  Oh!  you  got  that  out  of  the 
book!  That  was  Maman's  name  before  she 
married.    My  name's  Lachesnais. 

"Beg  pardon?" 

82 


>> 


POMANDER     WALK 

"La-ches-nais.  Marjolalne  Lachesnais.  You 
don't  pronounce  the  middle  j-." 

"Are  you  French?" 

"My  father  was."  She  had  filled  the  tumbler 
with  claret  and  was  holding  it  out  to  Jack. 
"Never  mind  about  all  that.    Make  haste." 

Jack    rose    to    his    feet,    tumbler    in    hand. 

"Marjolaine — ^  That  means  Marjoram, 
does  n't  it.?" 

"Do  you  know  French?" 

Jack  bowed  as  he  swallowed  the  claret.  He 
swallowed  unwisely.  It  was  a  lady's  claret,  and 
that  and  a  lady's  cigar  are  things  to  be  avoided 
by  the  judicious.  Indeed  Jack  was  shaken  from 
head  to  foot  by  a  convulsive  shudder.  "Oh 
Lord!"  said  he  involuntarily.  But  he  pulled 
himself  together  like  a  man.  "I  beg  pardon!  — • 
Know  French?  Very  little.  Marjoram — ■ 
sweet  Marjoram  —  how  appropriate!" 

Marjolaine  was  eyeing  him  with  grave 
suspicion.  "You  are  not  drinking.  It  is 
Maman's  claret!" 

Jack  gazed  stonily  at  his  half-empty  tumbler. 
"Does  she  • —  does  she  take  this  for  her  health?" 

"Yes.     As  medicine." 

"As  medicine —  I  understand." 

"  You  said  you  were  thirsty." 

"It's  a  wonderful  wine.  Quenches  your 
thirst  at  once."  He  put  the  glass  away  from 
him. 

83 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Take  some  cake?"  said  Marjolaine. 

She  had  forgotten  to  bring  a  knife,  so  Jack, 
sailorlike,  broke  the  cake  in  two  pieces. 

"I  say!"  he  cried,  "you  must  have  some  too, 
or  I  shall  feel  greedy!"  And  there  they  sat,  like 
two  children,  contentedly  munching  and  swinging 
their  legs. 

"I  shall  call  you  Marjory,"  said  Jack,  between 
two  bites. 

"They  all  do,"  answered  Marjolaine,  with 
her  mouth  full. 

"Do  they?"  asked  Jack  ferociously.     "Who?" 

Marjolaine  waved  her  cake  at  the  Walk  in 
general.     "Oh  —  the  neighbours." 

"Impudence!"  growled  Jack.  But  he  re- 
covered quickly.    "I  say!    Is  n't  this  delightful?" 

"  It 's  very  strange.  Do  you  know,  you  are 
the  first  young  man  I  Ve  ever  spoken  to,  in  all 
my  life?" 

Jack's  eyes  expressed  his  joy.  "No!  —  that 's 
first-rate!" 

Marjolaine  stared  at  him  with  astonishment. 
Why?" 

'Oh,  I  don't  know.    I  hate  young  men." 
Then  you  ought  to  live  here.     Here  —  every- 
body is  —  oh!  —  so  old!" 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  said  Jack,  with  deep 
sympathy. 

"Why?" 

"Must  be  so  lonely." 

84 


a 


(( 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Oh,  no!  One  cannot  feel  lonely  where  there  's 
a  river.  Twice  every  day  it  brings  down  news 
from  the  meadows,  where  the  flowers  are,  and  the 
cattle,  standing  knee-deep  in  its  margin,  and  the 
demoiselles  —  how  do  you  say?  —  dragonflies  — 
and  the  willows,  dipping  their  branches  in  it. 
And  then,  when  the  tide  turns,  it  comes  back 
from  the  great  town,  and  sings  of  the  ships  and 
the  crowded  bridges,  and  the  King  and  Queen 
taking  their  pleasure  in  great,  golden  barges. 
And  the  sea-gulls  come  with  it,  and  it  sings  of 
the  sea!" 

Her  eyes  were  flashing;  her  face  was  trans- 
figured; Jack  was  leaning  forward  eagerly,  and 
if  there  had  been  any  loophole  of  escape  for  him 
before,   there   was   certainly   none   now. 

"Do  you  love  the  sea?" 

"What  do  I  know  of  it?"  said  she,  coming 
to  earth  again.  "I  have  only  crossed  from 
Dunkerque  to  Tilbury.  But  that  was  lovely! 
It  was  very  rough;  and  I  stood  against  the  mast, 
and  my  hair  blew  all  about,  and  I  shouted  for 
joy!  —  Oh!  I  should  love  to  be  a  pirate!" 

"Fine!"  cried  Jack,  as  excited  as  she.  "Tell 
you  what!  We  '11  charter  a  ship,  and  sweep  the 
seas,  and  bang  the  enemy!" 

"'We'?  —  Why,  you're  going  away  in  a 
minute,  and  I  shall  never  see  you  again." 

There  was  a  pause.  Marjolaine's  words  had 
brought  them  both  to  a  sense  of  reality.    Finally 

85 


POMANDER     WALK 

Jack  spoke,   and   his  voice  had  a  new   ring  of 
earnestness. 

"Marjory  —  do  you  mean  that?" 

She  turned  wonderingly  innocent  eyes  on  him. 
"Why  should  you  come  again?" 

"Think  a  moment.  Let  us  both  think.  We 
are  very  young,  and  I  know  I  'm  hasty.  Let 
us  sit  quite  still,  and  think  hard  whether  we  'd 
like  to  meet  again.  Let  us  look  at  each  other 
and  not  speak." 

She  met  his  look  quite  frankly  for  a  moment  — 
but  only  for  a  moment.  Slowly  her  head  sank 
and  her  eyes  half  closed,  and  when  she  spoke, 
she  spoke  very  shyly.  "I  do  not  see  why  you 
should  not  come  again,"  she  whispered. 

"I  see  why  I  should!  I  must!  —  But  it  must 
be  differently." 

"Differently—?" 

"  I  must  n't  come  on  the  sly.  I  MI  get  an 
introduction." 

"But  none  of  your  friends  are  likely  to  know 
anybody  in  Pomander  Walk!" 

Jack  leaped  up.  "Is  this  Pomander  Walk?" 
he  almost  shouted.  "Why,  that's  what  I've 
been  looking  for  all  the  afternoon.  That 's 
where  my  friend  lives  —  the  Admiral!" 

It  was  Marjolaine's  turn  to  be  astonished. 
"Not  Sir  Peter  Antrobus!" 

"Yes!  —  Do  you  know  him?" 

"Why,  he's  the  King  of  the  Walk!    He  lives 

86 


"  Let  us  sit  quite  still  and  think  hard  whether  we  'd 
like  to  meet  again" 


POMANDER     WALK 

at  Number  One.     If  you  're  quite  quiet  you  can 
almost  hear  him  snoring!  " 

"Why,  there  we  are  then!  I'm  introduced! 
I 'm  on  a  proper  footing!  The  whole  thing's 
ship-shape!    O  Marjory,  what  a  relief!" 

"But  I  don't  understand  —  " 

"Yes,  you  do.  He  's  my  father's  oldest  friend. 
I  served  under  him  as  a  middy  on  board  the 
Termagant.  I  'm  very  fond  of  him.  I  '11  come 
and  see  him  to-morrow!  " 

Marjolaine  clapped  her  hands.  "And  then 
he  can  introduce  you  to  Maman!  " 

"Don't  you  see.''  It's  grand!  I'll  come  and 
see  him  often  —  every  day  —  twice  a  day.  If 
he  's  out,  I  can  sit  under  the  elm  and  wait  for 
him  —  with  you.    Oh!  are  n't  you  glad?  " 

"I'm  very  glad  you  Ve  found  your  old  friend," 
she  answered  demurely. 

"What's  to-day?" 

"Quintidi.  Fifth  Prairial.  Year  Thirteen — " 
she  replied  without  thinking. 

Jack  could  only  stare.  "What  are  you  talking 
about?" 

"Oh,"  she  laughed,  "I  had  forgotten  I  was 
in  England.    Saturday." 

Jack's  face  sank.  "Then  to-morrow  's  Sunday. 
Hang.  Well!  I '11  come  on  Monday.  Shall  you 
be  here? " 

I  am  always  here." 

'Be  under  the  elm."    He  thought  a  moment, 

87 


POMANDER     WALK 

and    then   added    insidiously,    "Shall    you    tell 
your  mother  about  to-day?  " 

Marjolaine  hesitated.  Perhaps  it  would  be 
better  to  wait  until  the  proper  formalities  had 
been  observed.  "On  Monday;  when  you  've 
been  introduced." 

"That's  it!"  cried  Jack.  "And  now  I'll  be 
off."  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his.  "Good- 
bye. Oh,  but  it 's  good  to  be  alive!  It 's  good  to 
be  young!  The  river  is  good  that  brought  me 
here!    The  sun  is  good  that  made  me  thirsty! " 

"And  the  claret  was  good.'' " 

"The  claret—!  Nectar!—  Oh,  Jack!  — 
Jack!  —  " 

Marjolaine  held  up  the  glass,  still  half  full. 

"Finish  it,  then." 

Jack  started  back  in  horror,  but  seeing  the 
dawning  surprise  on  her  face,  bravely  seized  the 
tumbler  and  dashed  it  off.  Thus  swiftly  was  his 
perjury  avenged. 

"Good-bye,  little  Marjory.    Till  Monday!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  wistfully.  "You  think 
you  will  come?" 

"Think!"  cried  Jack;  and  every  lover's  vow 
was  In  the  one  word. 

"Slip  to  your  boat,  quickly! "cried  Marjolaine, 
peeping  round  the  corner  of  the  Gazebo.  But 
before  he  could  move  she  gave  a  startled  cry  and 
motioned  him  back.  For  the  MufRn-man  had 
entered  the  Walk  ringing  his  bell. 

88 


POMANDER     WALK 

*'Dash  it!    What's  that?"  cried  Jack. 

"Keep  still!    It's  the  Muffin-man!" 

"I'm  off!" 

"Wait!"  Now  she  was  peeping  through  an 
opening  in  the  box-wood  hedge.  "Jack!  The 
whole  Walk's  awake!    Look!" 

Jack's  head  was  very  close  to  hers.  "  I  can't 
see;  your  hair's  in  the  way.  Don't  move!" 
For  a  moment  they  stood  watching. 

And  indeed  the  Walk  was  awake.  The  Muffin- 
man's  bell  had  acted  like  magic.  The  Admiral 
and  Jim  were  already  bargaining  with  him.  Mrs. 
Poskett  was  on  her  doorstep  with  a  plate  in  her 
hand.  So  was  Ruth  Pennymint.  Barbara  was 
in  the  garden,  and  Basil  was  telling  her  just  how 
many  muffins  he  wanted  from  the  upstairs  win- 
dow; Jane,  Mr.  Brooke-LIoskyn's  maid,  was  wait- 
ing impatiently;  and  Dr.  Sternroyd  had  come 
out  of  his  house  book  in  hand,  and  was  making 
frantic  signals  so  as  not  to  be  overlooked.  And 
they  were  all  talking,  and  gesticulating,  and 
calling. 

"By  Jove!"  cried  Jack  excitedly,  "there's  old 
Antrobus!" 

"All  of  them!  All  of  them!"  wailed  Mar- 
jolaine. 

"They  're  all  buying  muffins  —  greedy  pigs!  — 
They  won't  see  me."  He  made  as  If  to  dash 
out. 

Marjolalne  held  him  back.     "Yes,  they  will. 

89 


POMANDER     WALK 

Let  me  go  first.  I'll  get  them  talking,  and  then 
you  can  slip  away."  But  she  started  back  with  a 
suppressed  scream, 

"What  now?"  cried  Jack. 

"Maman  and  Nanette!" 

Yes.  As  ill-luck  would  have  it  Madame 
Lachesnais  and  her  old  servant  turned  the  corner 
at  this  moment,  and  with  a  friendly  word  to 
each  of  her  neighbours  Madame  was  coming 
slowly  towards  the  Gazebo. 

"They  must  not  come  here!"  cried  Marjo- 
laine  in  distress.  "I  cannot  explain  you  before 
the  whole  Walk!  —  Is  my  hair  straight?" 

"Lovely!  — Monday?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.    I'm  frightened." 

"Monday?"  insisted  Jack. 

"Yes!  Yes!" 

But  meanwhile  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had  come 
out  of  his  house,  and  taking  advantage  of  the 
hubbub  in  the  Walk  had  crossed  —  shall  I  say 
like  a  sleuth-hound?  —  more  like  a  sleuth-cat, 
if  there  be  such  an  animal  —  to  the  Gazebo. 
So  that  when  Marjolaine  came  forward  to  in- 
tercept her  mother,  she  ran  straight  into  his 
arms. 

"All  right.  Miss  Marjory,"  he  whispered,  with 
something  very  like  a  wink,  "I'll  fetch  the  things 
for  you." 

"No,  no!"  cried  Marjolaine,  in  agony. 

Her  mother  caught  sight  of  her  and  called  her. 

90 


POMANDER     WALK 

For  a  moment  Marjolaine  stood  irresolute.  Then, 
with  an  almost  hysterical  laugh,  she  ran  to 
her  mother.    "Me  voila,  Maman  cherie!" 

Jack  was  peering  through  the  hole  in  the  hedge, 
looking  for  a  chance  of  escape.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  put  his  head  slily  round  the  corner  of 
the  Gazebo  —  and,  sure  enough,  just  as  he  had 
suspected  —  there  was  a  young  man! 

What  with  the  Muffin-man,  and  Madame, 
and  Marjolaine  running  to  and  fro  and  button- 
holing everybody  who  seemed  to  be  inclined  to 
drift  towards  the  summer-house,  the  Walk's 
attention  was  fully  occupied.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  lifted  his  fat  hand  and  brought  it  down 
with  a  sounding  thwack  on  Jack's  shoulder. 

"What  the  devil — .?"  cried  Jack,  turning 
fiercely  on  his  assailant.  And  then  in  amaze- 
ment, "Hoskyn!  By  all  that's  improbable,  old 
Hoskyn!" 

If  it  were  possible  for  a  large  man  to  shrivel, 
the  great  Mr.  Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn  seemed  to 
shrivel  as  he  recognised  Jack.  He  could  only 
stammer,  "  You,  sir  —  you !  —  " 

"Hoskyn!"  repeated  Jack.  And  then,  sus- 
piciously, "What  the  devil  are  you  doing  here.'*" 

I  hate  to  have  to  write  the  words,  but  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  had  all  the  obsequious  manner 
of  a  well-trained  servant.  "I  beg  pardon,  sir," 
he  muttered,  and  turned  to  go. 

But  Jack  caught  him  by  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 

91 


POMANDER     WALK 

*'No,  no,  Hoskyn;  you  don't  get  off  so  easily. 
What  are  you  doing  here?" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  turned  sulky.  "I'm 
living  here,  sir." 

"The  doose  you  are!  —  Well,  you're  in  the 
nick  of  time.  Be  a  good  fellow  and  fetch  my 
hat  out  of  the  boat." 

"Certainly,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
But  as  he  started  to  do  so,  he  caught  sight  of 
the  Admiral.  He  turned  to  Jack  and  said  res- 
pectfully but  firmly,  "  I  'm  very  sorry.  Master 
Jack;  but  I  can't  do  it." 

"Why  not.?" 

"I'm  looked  up  to  here,  sir.  I  should  lose 
prestige." 

Jack  eyed  him  half  with  suspicion  and  half 
with  mockery.  "I  say,  Hoskyn,  what's  your 
little  game.!"' 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  getting  angry. 
"What's  yours,  sir.'"'  he  asked  defiantly. 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean.?" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  pointed  an  accusing  finger 
at  the  wine  and  the  crumbs  of  cake.  "  I  mean  — ■ 
this." 

"What  of  it.?  What  do  you  insinuate.?  "  cried 
Jack  fiercely. 

But  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  blood  was  up,  and 
he  was  not  to  be  intimidated.  "It  ain't  right, 
sir.  It  ain't  right  for  you  to  come  here  like  a 
snake  in  the  grass  drinking  claret  and  making 

92 


POMANDER     WALK 

love  to  our  little  Miss  Marjory.  I  won't  help 
you!    I'll  be  damned  if  I  do!" 

"Do  you  mean  I'm  doing  something  under- 
hand?" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  looked  at  him  sternly. 
"Well  — ain't  you,  sir.?" 

"I'll  devilish  soon  show  you!"  shouted  Jack, 
trying  to  pass  him. 

But  now  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  fell  into  a  sud- 
den panic.  "Don't  betray  me,  sir!  Don't, 
sir!"  he  entreated,  trying  to  stop  him. 

Jack  thrust  him  roughly  aside  with  an  angry, 
"Out  of  my  way!"  and  poor  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
sank  on  the  seat  In  the  summer-house,  gasping, 
"Good  Lord!    He'll  tell  the  whole  Walk!" 

Jack  had  acted  on  the  spur  of  the  moment; 
but  now  that  he  was  face  to  face  with  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  Walk  a  sudden  shyness  took 
hold  of  him  and  he  stood  irresolute.  Marjo- 
laine  had  sat  down  exhausted  on  the  seat  under 
the  elm,  and  Madame  Lachesnais  was  coming 
towards  her.  Little  Barbara  Pennymint  was 
the  first  to  see  Jack.  She  gave  a  demure  little 
scream  and  ran  to  the  Admiral.  "Look!  A 
stranger!"  Sir  Peter  was  on  his  dignity  at  once. 
He  came  straight  at  Jack.  "Now,  sir  —  may  I 
ask—?" 

"Admiral,"   cried  Jack,  saluting. 

"Eh,"  said  the  Admiral,  fixing  his  one  eye  on 
the    young    man,    "Gobblessmysoul!     what    a 

93 


POMANDER     WALK 

coincidence!"  He  seized  Jack's  hand  and  nearly 
wrung  it  off,  while  the  whole  Walk  watched  with 
amazed  curiosity,  and  Marjolaine  looked  on 
with  delight.  "I'm  delighted  to  see  you,  my 
lad!  —  De-lighted!"  He  turned  to  Madame 
Lachesnais  as  the  social  leader  of  the  Walk. 
"Madame  Lachesnais!"  he  cried,  holding  Jack 
by  the  hand,  "Let  me  have  the  honour  of  pre- 
senting my  gallant  young  friend,  the  Honour- 
able Jack  Sayle,  son  of  my  old  friend,  Lord  —  " 

He  never  got  any  further.  At  the  words, 
"Jack  Sayle,"  Madame,  who  had  been  standing 
smilingly  to  welcome  the  young  man,  gave  a 
sharp  cry,  swayed,  and  sank  swooning  in  Nan- 
ette's arms. 

Then  what  a  commotion  there  was,  to  be  sure! 
Marjolaine  ran  to  her  mother,  Mrs.  Poskett, 
Ruth  and  Barbara  crowded  round  her  or  rushed 
about  vaguely,  crying,  "Salts!  Quick!"  The 
Admiral  stood  petrified  a  moment.  Then  he 
hurried  Jack  towards  the  boat.  "Get  away, 
Jack!"    Jack  resisted.     "But—!" 

"Away  with  you!"  insisted  the  Admiral  In  a 
raucous  whisper.  "Discretion!  —  They'll  have 
to  unhook  her!" 

But  the  Eyesore  went  on  fishing. 


94 


4     » 

CHAPTER  VI 

IN    WHICH    POMANDER   WALK 
IS    NOT    QUITE   ITSELF 

THE  Admiral  was  much  troubled.  A  week 
had  elapsed  since  Madame  fainted,  and 
although  the  mysterious  process  of  un- 
hooking her,  together  with  a  dash  of  water  on  her 
face,  and  the  salts,  had  brought  her  to  very  rap- 
idly, a  cloud  had  seemed  to  hang  over  the  Walk 
since  that  moment.  It  was  certainly  not  itself, 
and  it  had  grown  less  like  itself  as  the  days  passed. 
Madame  was  apparently  quite  well,  yet  she  stayed 
within  doors,  or,  if  she  came  out,  her  face  was 
more  than  usually  sad,  and  she  walked  with  slow 
steps,  like  one  who  bears  a  heavy  burden  of 
sorrow.     She  was  not  seen  in  church  on  Sunday. 

95 


POMANDER  WALK 

Marjolaine  was  there,  bright  and  happy.  She 
had  assured  everybody  there  was  nothing  really 
serious  the  matter  with  her  mother:  only  a 
headache.  On  Monday  morning  Marjolaine 
was  still  her  usual  merry  self,  but  as  the  morning 
wore  into  the  afternoon  and  the  afternoon  into 
the  evening  she  grew  restless.  The  Admiral 
noticed  that  she  kept  on  going  to  the  river-bank 
and  looking  up  and  down  stream  as  if  she  were 
expecting  someone.  On  Tuesday  she  was  out 
very  early,  still  apparently  watching.  On  Wed- 
nesday she  grew  silent,  and  refused  to  have  her 
usual  singing-lesson  on  the  plea  that  she  was  not 
feeling  very  well.  On  Thursday  she  turned 
unnaturally  gay,  but  there  was  a  hard  note  in 
her  laughter,  and  Sir  Peter  had  caught  her  sob- 
bing in  the  Gazebo.  Fortunately  she  had  not 
noticed  him,  and  he  was  able  to  retire  without 
disturbing  her.  But  he  himself  was  greatly  dis- 
turbed. The  more  so  as  he  had  seen  that  Madame 
was  watching  her  daughter  intently,  and  that 
every  change  in  Marjolaine  was  reflected  on  the 
elder  lady's  face. 

Friday  found  Marjolaine  pale  and  dejected; 
and  here  was  midday  on  Saturday,  and  she  had 
not  yet  appeared! 

Could  she  be  sickening  for  a  serious  illness.'* 
Sir  Peter  was  nervous  and  anxious.  He  was  also 
put  out  by  the  fact  that  although  Jack  Sayle  had 
promised  as  he  hurriedly  rowed  away,  that  he 

96 


POMANDER     WALK 

would  come  to  see  him  on  the  Monday,  the  whole 
week  had  passed  without  a  sign  of  the  young 
lieutenant,  and  without  any  word  of  explanation. 

But  the  entire  Walk  was  nervous  and  anxious. 
It  had  grown  so  accustomed  to  Marjolaine's 
songs  and  merry  laughter,  that  as  she  grew  silent 
and  grave,  the  Walk  grew  silent  and  grave  with 
her.  Mrs.  Poskett's  temper  underwent  a  change 
for  the  worse,  and  she  and  Ruth  Pennymint 
very  nearly  had  words  over  a  milk-can  which 
the  dairy-man  had  carelessly  hung  on  the  wrong 
railing.  Ruth's  ill-humour  was  aggravated  by 
the  behaviour  of  Barbara  and  Basil.  They  went 
about  sighing  and  turning  up  the  whites  of  their 
eyes;  Barbara  shut  herself  up  two  and  three 
hours  every  day  with  the  parrot,  and  Basil 
ground  at  the  slow  movement  of  the  Kreutzcr 
Sonata,  repeating  one  particularly  heart-rending 
passage  so  persistently  that  Ruth  wanted  to 
scream. 

But  the  man  who  behaved  most  strangely  of 
all  was  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn.  That  magnificent 
creature  showed  all  the  symptoms  of  a  guilty 
conscience.  It  is  true  he  strutted  about  the 
Walk,  dressed  as  faultlessly  as  ever,  swung  his 
tassled  cane  with  much  of  his  old  elegance,  and 
took  snuff  with  all  the  airy  grace  imaginable. 
And  yet  —  and  yet  —  !  Somehow,  his  clothes 
seemed  to  hang  loosely  on  him.  Somehow,  his 
hat,  though  poised  at  a  rakish  angle,  no  longer 

97 


POMANDER     WALK 

conveyed  the  old  devil-may-care  impression. 
His  face  no  longer  beamed  with  unassailable 
self-satisfaction.  There  was  a  furtive  look  in  his 
eyes,  as  though  he  were  constantly  on  the  watch. 
It  is  a  low  comparison  to  apply,  but  if  you  have 
ever  seen  a  dog  who  knows  he  has  just  stolen  a 
piece  of  meat,  you  have  seen  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
Once,  when  the  Admiral,  who  was  stubbornly 
resisting  the  universal  depression,  came  up  be- 
hind him  unobserved  and  suddenly  slapped 
him  on  the  back,  he  screamed  —  he  positively 
screamed.  "Thought  the  Bow-street  runners  was 
after  you?"  roared  the  Admiral  heartily.  But 
the  tone  of  fury  with  which  he  replied  "Cer- 
tainly not,  sir!  Hpw  dare  you.?"  was  so  sincere 
that  Sir  Peter  did  not  pursue  the  joke.  Evi- 
dently he  had  indeed  thought  the  runners  were 
after  him. 

The  Walk  was  like  a  drooping  flower,  and 
even  the  Eyesore  felt  the  depressing  influence; 
he  fished  less  hopefully  than  ever,  and  it  was 
noticed  that  he  interrupted  his  fishing  more 
frequently  for  excursions  outside  the  bounds  of 
Pomander  Walk:  excursions  from  which  he 
returned  wiping  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  and  returned  each  time  perhaps  a  trifle 
less  steadily. 

Now,  all  these  good  people  had  lost  their  usual 
good  spirits  and  their  cheety  outlook  on  life 
merely  because  one  little  girl  had  left  off  laughing; 

98 


POMANDER     WALK 

and  she  had  left  off  laughing  because  one  very 
young  man  had  not  kept  his  word. 

The  servants  of  the  Walk  were  very  busy  this 
Saturday  morning.  Jane,  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's 
nurse,  was  explaining  to  Abigail,  Mrs.  Poskett's 
little  maid,  that  nothing  should  persuade  her  to 
continue  wearing  the  Charity-School  costume 
after  she  had  risen  to  the  dignity  of  domestic 
service.  Jim  was  feverishly  polishing  the  Admi- 
ral's little  brass  cannon.  That  brass  cannon  was 
the  apple  of  the  Admiral's  remaining  eye;  and 
at  the  same  time  the  plague  of  his  life.  On 
every  state  occasion,  such  as  the  King's  birth- 
day, or  the  anniversary  of  the  Battle  of  Copen- 
hagen, he  would,  to  the  great  terror  of  the  Walk, 
have  it  out,  plant  it  pointing  truculently  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  and,  standing  well 
away  from  it,  apply  a  match.  This  was  always 
an  agonised  moment  of  suspense  for  the  Walk. 
But  invariably  the  gun  refused  to  go  off.  The 
Admiral's  expletives,  however,  supplied  an  effi- 
cient substitute.  I  am  sorry  to  say  the  failure 
to  explode  was  always  due  to  an  act  of  treachery 
on  Jim's  part.  The  Walk  subscribed  five  shillings 
towards  that  ancient  mariner's  liquid  refresh- 
ment, and  the  ancient  mariner  withdrew  the 
charge  in  the  dead  of  night.  To-day  he  was 
polishing  the  gun  well  in  view  of  all  the  houses. 
The  King's  birthday  was  approaching,  and  the 
Walk  needed  a  gentle  reminder  that  unless  it 

99 


POMANDER  WALK 

wished  to  be  stunned  and  to  have  all  its  windows 
broken,  now  was  the  time  to  start  the  usual  col- 
lection. 

Nanette  came  out  of  Number  Four,  carrying 
a  rug  and  a  bamboo  cane,  evidently  bent  on 
beating  the  former  on  the  lawn.  Jane  drew 
Jim's  attention  to  her.  Then  began  a  battle  of 
tongues.  Jim  tried  to  explain  that  this  was 
not  allowed.  If  she  wanted  to  beat  the  rug,  she 
must  do  so  in  the  back  garden.  Words,  none  of 
which  either  could  understand,  grew  high;  Abigail 
and  Jane  joined  in,  and  the  place  became  a  veri- 
table Babel  of  screaming  voices  and  of  wildly 
waving  arms. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  opened  his  window  vio- 
lently. "What 's  all  this?"  he  cried;  and  he  was 
such  an  amazing  apparition  that  the  voices 
sank  to  sudden  silence  and  the  servants  rushed, 
helter-skelter.  Into  their  respective  houses. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  finishing  his  toilet. 
He  was  brushing  his  hair.  It  stood  out  on  each 
side  of  his  head  like  a  sort  of  double  mane,  and 
his  face  looked  exactly  like  the  representations 
of  a  flaming  sun  on  the  cover  of  an  almanac. 
He  was  carrying  on  a  conversation  with  Sclina, 
and  both  he  and  his  wife  were  evidently  in  a 
bad  humour. 

"But,  my  own  Selina,"  said  he,  "what  was  I 
to  do?  Be  reasonable.  I  only  wrote  and  told 
his  lordship    the    boy  was  carrying  on  a  clan- 

loo 


POMANDER  WALK 

destine  love-affair.  —  No,  of  course  I  did  n't  sign 
the  letter.  —  None  of  my  business  ?  —  Now, 
Selina,  if  I  had  n't  wrote  he  'd  have  come  again, 
and  all  would  have  been  disclosed.  We  should 
have  been  obleeged  to  leave  the  Walk.  —  Drat 
the  Walk.?  —  Oh!  fie!  That  is  not  how  my 
ring-dove  customarily  coos.  —  What.''  soft  words 
butter  no  parsnips.'' — Selina,  Selina —  !  Does 
my  Selina  think  she  is  in  her  kitchen.?  —  Yes; 
I  know  I  've  made  Miss  Marjory  very  unhappy; 
but  we  must  make  other  people  unhappy,  if 
we  're  to  be  happy  ourselves.  I  'm  sorry  for  her, 
very  sorry.  She 's  a  sweet  creature."  There 
was  a  sound  of  a  broken  tea-cup.  "There  you 
go  again!  —  You  scold  me  for  making  her  un- 
happy, and  you  scold  me  for  being  sorry. 
There's  no  pleasing  you  anyhow!" 

In  his  perplexity  he  had  brushed  his  hair  over 
the  top  of  his  head,  and  now  he  looked  like  an 
angry  cockatoo. 

Marjolaine  came  slowly  and  dejectedly  out 
of  her  house.  She  heard  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's 
voice  and  glanced  up  at  him,  but  even  his  wild 
and  wonderful  appearance  failed  to  draw  a  smile 
from  her.  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  could  not  retire, 
much  as  he  would  have  liked  to.  He  waved  a 
conciliatory  hair-brush  at  her,  and  cried  with 
assumed  cheerfulness,  "Ah,  Miss  Marjory —  I 
How  do  you  do.?"  then  in  response  to  some 
remark  from  his  wife,  he  turned  and  whispered 

lOI 


POMANDER     WALK 

peevishly,  "I  must  speak  to  her;  it 's  only  polite. 
Don't  snivel."  He  addressed  Marjolaine  again, 
deprecatorily,  "You  are  looking  a  little  pale." 

Marjolaine  drew  herself  up.  It  was  intoler- 
able that  anybody  should  see  she  was  in  trouble. 

"I  never  felt  better  in  my  life,"  she  said 
defiantly. 

"But  more  like  the  lily  than  the  rose?  "  ex- 
claimed Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  with  a  fine  touch 
of  lyricism;  and  then  to  Selina,  "No;  I  am  not 
talking  nonsense!     It  was  a  quotation." 

"How  is  Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn  this  morning.''" 
asked  Marjolaine. 

"In  the  highest  spirits!"  cried  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn.  "My  dear  Selina,"  he  explained, 
turning  towards  the  room,  "Miss  Marjory  is 
kind  enough  to  ask  after  your  health,  and  I  am 
telling  her  you  are  in  the  highest  spirits.  Do 
—  not  —  snivel  —  she  '11  hear  you !"  To  Mar- 
jolaine, with  a  ghastly  smile,  "Her  gaiety  is 
infectious;  positively  infectious!  "  Some  hard 
object,  thrown  with  unerring  aim,  caught  him  in 
the  small  of  the  back.  "Oh,  Lord!"  he  cried. 
"Excuse  me,  Miss  Marjory;  Selina  has  just  re- 
membered a  joke  she  wishes  to  tell  me.  Thus 
the  hours  pass  in  innocent  mirth  and  badinage. 
Excuse  me!"  He  turned  away.  "You  really 
are  —  !"  he  cried,  almost  viciously;  and  slammed 
the  window,  and  disappeared. 

But   Marjolaine    never    smiled.      She    moved 

102 


POMANDER  WALK 

as  one  who  had  no  particular  object  In  life. 
She  drifted  instinctively  towards  the  river-bank 
although  she  knew  that  strain  her  eyes  as  she 
might  the  little  boat  she  had  looked  for  all  the 
week  was  now  less  likely  than  ever  to  appear. 
At  one  moment  she  seemed  almost  inclined  to 
speak  to  the  Eyesore;  to  ask  him  whether  he 
had  seen  what  she  had  so  long  been  vainly  looking 
for.  But  the  Eyesore  was  at  that  instant  im- 
paling a  worm,  and  was  altogether  too  revolting. 
She  stood  a  moment  looking  up  and  down  the 
stream,  and  then  turned  away  with  a  great 
sigh. 

Mrs.  Poskett's  great  yellow  cat,  Sempronius, 
was  curled  up  in  the  sun  just  behind  the  Gazebo. 
Marjolaine  looked  at  him.  She  and  he  were 
fast  friends,  and  in  happier  times  she  would 
have  had  a  friendly  word  for  him  and  an  affec- 
tionate caress.  To-day,  even  that  was  too  much 
of  an  effort.  Fortunately  Sempronius  was 
asleep  and  did  not  notice  her  inattention. 

Sir  Peter  Antrobus  opened  his  upstair  window 
and  hung  the  osier  cage  with  the  thrush  in  it 
on  its  nail.  He  caught  sight  of  the  disconsolate 
little  figure.  "MIssIe,  ahoy!"  he  roared,  as 
though  he  were  hailing  a  friendly  craft  in  the 
offing.    Marjolaine  started. 

"Oh,  Sir  Peter!     You  made  me  jump!" 

"Sent    a    shot    across    your    bows  —  what.^" 

roared  the  Admiral. 

103 


POMANDER     WALK 

"How's  the  thrush?"  asked  Marjolaine  with 
an  interest  she  did  not  feeh 

"Peaky.  Peaky.  That  confounded  cat  next 
door 's  been  watching  him.  Seen  him  about 
anywhere.^" 

Marjolaine  pointed  to  where  Sempronius  was 
lying  wrapped  in  innocent  slumber.  "He's 
quite  safe,"  she  said.     "There." 

But  the  Eyesore  was  between  him  and  Sir 
Peter,  and  the  latter  had  to  twist  himself  into 
what  was  for  so  portly  a  gentleman  a  very  un- 
natural position  in  order  to  see  him.  "Eh.'' 
Where.?" 

"There,"  she  answered, ^" there,  behind  the 
—  "  she  was  just  going  to  say  "Eyesore,"  but 
stopped  herself  in  time.     "Behind  the  Gazebo." 

"Oh,  there!  Well,  if  he  moves  I'll  kill 
him!" 

Marjolaine  wondered.  Could  Sir  Peter  tell 
her  what  she  so  much  wanted  to  know.?  Could 
he,  at  least,  be  brought  to  talk  about  what  her 
heart  was  full  of.? 

"Sir  Peter,"  she  said,  with  as  much  of  her 
old  cheerfulness  as  she  could  summon,  and  with 
that  pretty  way  of  hers  which  no  one  could 
resist,  "Are  you  very  busy.?  Could  you  spare 
time  for  a  little  chat.?" 

"With  you.?"  cried  the  Admiral,  gallantly. 
"Hours!"  He  vanished  from  the  window  and 
was  heard   tumbling  down  his  stairs  two  at  a 

104 


POMANDER     WALK 

time.  I  believe  if  he  had  been  only  a  few  years 
younger  he  would  have  slid  down  the  balustrade. 
Jim  told  Jane  later  in  the  day  he  had  never  seen 
anything  like  it. 

Marjolaine  waited  for  him  under  the  elm, 
and  pondered  how  she  was  to  lead  the  con- 
versation round  to  what  she  wanted  to  hear. 

The  Admiral  burst  out  of  his  house.  For 
once  he  took  no  notice  of  the  Eyesore.  The 
cat,  however,  did  arrest  his  attention.  Sem- 
pronius,  scenting  an  enemy,  was  blinking  at 
him  out  of  one  eye.  Sempronius'  attitude 
towards  the  Admiral  was  one  of  armed  neutrality. 
He  knew  Sir  Peter  bore  him  no  good-will,  but  he 
also  knew  Sir  Peter  dare  not  touch  him.  Where- 
fore, although  he  kept  a  wary  look-out,  even  the 
Admiral's  threatening  gesture  was  not  enough 
to  make  him  stir  from  his  sunny  corner. 

Sir  Peter  came  to  Marjolaine. 

"He's  sitting  there,  watching  the  Eyesore 
like  a  tiger.  Shows  cats  have  no  sense.  'Pears 
to  think  the  Eyesore's  going  to  catch  a  fish! 
Ha!  Never  caught  a  fish  in  his  born  days!"  He 
took  both  Marjolaine's  hands  in  his.  "Well, 
Missie;  what  can  I  do  for  you.^" 

"Talk  to  me,"  said  Marjolaine. 

Sir  Peter  was  flattered  and  delighted.  Their 
little  Missie  was  coming  to  life  again.  "Ah!  — 
tell  ye  what,"  he  said,  swinging  her  hands,  "If 
we  had  that  fiddler  here,  we  might  practise  the 

105 


POMANDER     WALK 

hornpipe!"  He  whistled  gaily  and  tried  to 
force  her  into  the  step. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  breaking  away  from  him; 
and  then,  more  gently,  "No:  not  to-day!" 

The  Admiral  looked  at  her  anxiously  out  of 
his  one  eye.  "Oh?"  said  he,  sympathetically, 
"In  the  doldrums?" 

"Sir  Peter,"  she  cried,  impulsively,  "was  you 
ever  broken-hearted?" 

"Lord  bless  your  pretty  eyes,  yes!  Every 
time  I  left  port." 

"Ah!  but  did  the  world  seem  like  an  empty 
husk?  and  did  you  want  to  sit  down  and  cry 
your  eyes  out?" 

This  was  much  worse  than  the  Admiral  had 
anticipated.    He  must  try  to  make  her  laugh. 

"Well,  ye  see,  I  could  only  have  cried  one  out, 
was  it  ever-so!" 

"Then  what  did  you  do?  How  did  you  cure 
yourself?" 

"Why,  with  a  jorum  of  rum,  to  be  sure!" 

Marjolaine  was  disappointed.  "Oh!  —  I  can't 
do  that!" 

Sir  Peter  came  closer.  "What?  Are  you 
broken-hearted  ? " 

Good  heavens!  What  had  she  been  saying? 
Had  she  given  away  her  precious  secret? 

"Certainly  not!"  she  answered,  with  flaming 
cheeks.  "Of  course  not.  It's  nothing.  Only 
somebody  —  somebody  has  broken  their  word." 

1 06 


POMANDER     WALK 

" Look-a-that,  now!"  cried  the  Admiral,  puz- 
zled. "But  I  '11  cure  you!  I  '11  tell  you  a  story. 
Something  funny.  How  I  lost  my  eye  —  what.'"' 
He  drew  her  down  beside  him  on  the  seat  under 
the  elm.  "Ye  see,  it  was  on  board  o'  the  Ter- 
magant —  " 

"When  you  was  with  Nelson?"  asked 
Marjolaine. 

"Ay.  Battle  o'  Copenhagen;  year  Eighteen- 
one." 

Here  was  a  possible  opening.  At  any  rate 
Marjolaine  would  try. 

"I  suppose  you  had  many  officers  under  you.?" 
she  insinuated. 

"Hundreds!"  cried  Sir  Peter,  enthusiastically; 
and  then,  feeling  he  had  conveyed  an  exaggerated 
impression,  "well  —  when  I  say  hundreds — !" 
his  memory  awoke.  "Ah!  I  was  somebody, 
then!  —  But    this    infernal    government — !" 

Marjolaine  laid  her  hand  soothingly  on  his 
arm.  "I  suppose  some  of  them  were  quite 
young .^"  she  said,  with  splendidly  assumed  in- 
difference.    Every  woman  is  a  born  actress. 

"Middies.'"'  cried  the  Admiral,  with  mag- 
nificent contempt.  "Lord  love  ye,  I  took  no 
notice  o'  them!  Passel  o'  powder-monkeys!" 
Then  he  added  with  a  touch  of  tender  recollec- 
tion, "Not  but  what  Jack  Sayle  —  " 

"Jack  what.'"'  said  Marjolaine  quickly,  as 
if  she  had  not  heard. 

107 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Sayle.  Jack  Sayle.  You  know.  Young 
feller  I  presented  to  your  lady-mother  a  week 
ago.    Time  she  swooned  —  " 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Gobblessmysoul!  I  was  startled!  I 
thought  —  " 

The  Admiral  must  not  be  allowed  to  wander 
from  the  only  topic  that  mattered.  Marjolaine 
interrupted  him.     "Was  he  on  your  ship.?" 

"What,  Jack  Sayle.'*  Ay,  was  he.  And  a  fine 
young  feller,  too.  Of  course  you  was  much  too 
agitated  to  notice  him  last  Saturday.  Gad!  I 
wonder  he  has  n't  been  to  see  me  all  the  week. 
Promised  he  would.  Said  he  'd  come  last 
Monday." 

"  Did  he.f*"  cried  Marjory.  So  he  had  broken 
his  word  in  two  places! 

"He  did.  There!  He  's  only  on  leave,  and 
he  has  heavy  social  duties.  Only  son  of  Lord 
Otford,  y'  know." 

"  Lord  Otford ! "  Marjolaine  repeated,  amazed. 
The  name  and  the  title  somehow  impressed  her 
with  a  sense  of  vague  fear. 

"Ay,  ay,"  the  unconscious  Admiral  proceeded 
garrulously.  "My  old  friend.  Otford  's  selfish 
about  him.  Ye  see,  the  boy  '11  come  into  a 
great  estate.  Half  a  county.  And  the  old  man  's 
anxious  about  his  marriage." 

"Whose  marriage.''"  asked  Marjory,  almost 
voicelessly. 

1 08 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Why,  Jack's,  to  be  sure!  —  Lord!  —  they 
marry  'em  now  before  they  're  out  of  their 
swaddling  clothes.  Otford  's  in  a  hurry  to 
secure  the  succession  —  "  He  stopped  abruptly. 
This  was  really  not  a  subject  to  discuss  with  a 
young  girl.  "Hum!  —  what  I  was  about  to 
say  —  er  —  the  Honourable  Caroline  Thring  — !  " 

"Caroline  Thring"  —  Marjolaine  repeated  the 
name  to  herself.     It  was  a  name  to  remember. 

"Ay  —  daughter  and  sole  heiress  of  Lord 
Wendover.  Not  my  sort.  Goes  about  doing 
good  —  like  the  party  last  Saturday.  But  the 
two  estates  '11  cover  the  county.  It  's  an  un- 
doubted match  —  " 

Marjolaine  had  heard  all  she  wanted  —  and 
more.  She  felt  she  would  break  down  if  the 
Admiral  went  on.  She  looked  all  around  the 
Walk  for  help;  for  some  excuse  to  break 
off  the  conversation.  There  was  only  Sem- 
pronius.  "I  think  —  "she  just  gave  herself 
time  to  make  up  her  mind  as  to  what  she 
could  think  —  "I  think  I  saw  Sempronius 
stirring!" 

Sir  Peter  jumped  up.  "Damn  that  cat!" 
he  cried  —  "Beg  pardon!  —  I  '11  —  "  But  the 
golden-haired  Sempronius  was  sound  asleep 
with  his  bushy  tail  over  his  nose. 

Whether  the  Eyesore  was  shocked  by  the 
Admiral's  bad  language  —  which  seems  un- 
likely —  or  whether  he  was  moved  by  his  usual 

109 


POMANDER     WALK 

thirst,  he  dropped  his  fishing-rod,  and  vanished 
round  the  corner. 

The  Admiral  hurried  back. 

"No.  He  's  quiet  enough."  He  saw  Mar- 
jolaine's  sad  face  and  added,  "Gobblessmysoul! 
Here  I  've  been  boring  you  about  a  young 
feller  you  don't  know  —  "  To  his  amazement 
Marjolaine  turned  her  face  away  abruptly.  The 
Admiral  stopped  short.  Why  did  she  turn  away.'* 
Was  it  possible  that — ^  How  long  had  Jack 
been  in  the  Walk  when  he  met  him  a  week  ago.^ 
^^Do  you  know  him.?"  said  he.  Marjolaine  was 
silent.  Sir  Peter  gave  a  low  whistle.  He  took 
her  gently  by  the  shoulder  and  turned  her  to- 
wards him.  "Here,  I  say,  young  woman  —  You 
just  look  me  in  the  eye."  He  pointed  to  his 
good  one.  "This  eye."  Marjolaine  stood  before 
him  in  confusion.  It  made  her  angry  to  feel 
confused.  Why  should  she  feel  confused .f*  "I  — 
I  have  seen  him  once,"  she  answered  bravely. 

"Have  you,  begad!  —  So  that 's  what  he  was 
cruising  about  here  for,  was  it.''  —  But  I'll 
teach  him!" 

Marjolaine  was  very  angry  indeed.  "Sir 
Peter!"  she  flashed  at  him,  "If  you  breathe  it, 
I  '11    never  speak  to  you  again!" 

"D'  ye  think  I  '11  have  him  coming  here — .?" 

"But  he's  not  coming  here!"  cried  Mar- 
jolaine; and  with  a  meaning  of  her  own:  "Oh, 
don't  you  see  he's  not    coming.''  —  Swear   you 

no 


POMANDER     WALK 

won't  breathe  a  word  to  a  living  soul!  Swear! 
Swear!" 

"Damme!"  cried  the  Admiral.  "I  must 
think  that  over.  And  as  for  you,"  he  added, 
with  humorous  sternness,  "you  come  and  sit 
under  the  tree  and  I  '11  talk  to  you  like  a  Dutch 
uncle." 

Marjolaine  saw  Mrs.  Poskett  at  her  window. 
It  would  not  do  for  Sir  Peter  to  talk  to  her  like 
an  uncle  —  Dutch  or  otherwise.  "Sir  Peter!" 
she  cried,  "Sempronius  is  going  to  jump!" 

Sir  Peter  rushed  to  the  cat  again,  and  again 
found  him  sound  asleep.  He  turned  furiously 
towards  Marjolaine,  but  Mrs.  Poskett  inter- 
cepted him.     "Good  morning.  Sir  Peter!" 

Sir  Peter  looked  up,  where  the  widow  was 
shaking  the  ribbons  of  her  cap  at  him.  "Morn- 
ing, ma'am,"  he  said,  sulkily.     "Your  cat  —  " 

"Hush!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Poskett,  craning 
forward  to  see  her  pet.  "Dear  Sempronius!  — 
Don't  disturb  him!     He's  so  happy!" 

"But—!" 

"I  'm  sure  it 's  going  to  rain,"  the  widow  ex- 
plained. "He  always  sits  there  when  he  feels 
rain  coming;  because  the  fish  rise,  and  he  loves 
watching  them." 

"Confounded   nonsense,"   growled   Sir   Peter. 

Mrs.  Poskett  closed  her  window,  and  Sir 
Peter  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to  Marjolaine 
and    having    it   out   with    her,    when   Madame 

III 


POMANDER     WALK 

Lachesnais  came  out  of  her  house.  Of  course 
that  made  all  conversation  with  the  girl  im- 
possible, and  as  he  did  not  feel  he  could  meet 
the  mother,  knowing  what  he  now  knew,  there 
was  nothing  left  for  him  but  to  salute  her  and 
beat  a  hasty  retreat  into  his  own  house  and 
think  things  over. 


112 


CHAPTER    VII 

SHOWING   HOW   HISTORY 
REPEATS    ITSELF 

ENGROSSED  in  her  own  gentle  melan- 
choly Madame  crossed  slowly  towards 
the  river.  She  was  sincerely  distressed 
about  Marjolaine.  What  could  be  the  matter 
with  the  child?  This  question  had  haunted 
her  all  the  week;  but  whenever  she  had 
tried  to  speak  to  her  daughter,  the  latter 
had  evaded  her  on  one  pretext  or  another.  In 
vain  Madame  racked  her  brains.  Marjolaine 
was  not  ill;  yet  she  had  no  appetite;  the  colour 
had  faded  from  her  cheeks;  the  spring  had  gone 
out  of  her  step;  and  the  laughter  had  died  from 
her  lips.  Madame  remembered  the  time  —  long 
ago:  twenty  years  ago  and  more  —  when  she  her- 
self had  looked  and  spoken  and  moved,  just  as 
Marjolaine  did  now;  but  there  had  been  a  very 
good  reason  for  that.  In  Marjolaine's  case  there 
could  be  no  reason.  No  one  had  crossed  her 
young  life  —  or,  was  she  mistaken?  That  young 
man  who  had  so  suddenly  appeared:  who  had 

113 


POMANDER     WALK 

so  suddenly  revived  the  most  poignant  memories 
of  her  own  youth!  —  Was   it  conceivable  that 
he  and  Marjolaine  had  met?  had  perhaps  met 
frequently?    It  was  not  conceivable.    Marjolaine 
was  the    soul  of    truth.     Marjolaine  had   been 
perfectly  happy  until  a  few  days   ago.     Mar- 
jolaine had  not  shown  any  signs  of  recognition 
when  the  young  man  stood  there.     And  yet? 
Was  it  wise  to  be  too  sure?     In   her  own  case 
there  had   been   secrecy,  and,  now  she  remem- 
bered, she  had  borne  the  secrecy  unflinchingly; 
had  shown  a  perfectly  calm  and  happy  exterior. 
The  secrets  of  the  young  seem  to  them  quite 
innocent:  merely  possessions  of  their  own  which 
they   keep    to   themselves,   which    they   cannot 
understand  they  are  in  duty  bound  to  disclose 
to  their  elders.    And,  to  be  sure,  her  own  father 
—  she  had  lost  her  mother  in  early  youth  — • 
had  never  tried  to  win  her  confidence.    A  great 
entomologist  cannot  be  expected  to  allow  his  at- 
tention to  be  distracted  by  a  girl's  sentimental 
nonsense.      But    she  —  had    she    paid    enough 
attention   to   her   daughter?     Had  she   not   al- 
lowed herself  to  be  lulled  into  false  security  by 
the  remoteness  of  Pomander  Walk?    But  if  the 
young  man  —  Jack  Sayle,  of  all  people  in  the 
world!  —  had  won  Marjolaine's  heart,  why,  here 
were   the  beginnings  of   a  bitter   tragedy:    her 
own  tragedy  all  over  again.     It  must  be  nipped 
in  the  bud.     Mercilessly.     She  must  be  cruel 

114 


She  placed  her  arm  vkry  tknderly  over  her  shoulders 


AND    GKNIIY    CALLED    HER    liY    NAME 


POMANDER     WALK 

to  be  kind.  Could  she  be  cruel  to  Marjolaine? 
Motherhood  had  its  duties,  however,  and,  now 
that  this  great  fear  was  on  her,  she  saw  her  duty 
plainly,  and  would  do  it. 

She  was  interrupted  in  her  meditations  by  the 
sound  of  weeping,  and  for  the  first  time,  she 
saw  poor  Marjolaine  sitting  under  the  tree,  bend- 
ing low,  with  her  face  in  her  hands,  shaken 
with  great  sobs.  She  hurried  across  to  the 
weeping  girl,  placed  her  arm  very  tenderly  over 
her  shoulders  and  gently  called  her  by  her  name. 

The  touch  of  her  mother's  arm,  the  sound  of 
her  mother's  voice  let  loose  the  floodgates. 
With  a  cry  of  "Oh,  Maman!"  Marjolaine 
threw  her  arms  round  her  mother's  waist  and 
buried  her  face  against  her.  Madame  sat  down 
beside  her  and  drew  her  very  close.  "Cherie  — 
my  darling!    What  is  the  matter.^" 

Marjolaine  tried  to  master  herself;  tried  to  put 
on  a  brave  face;  dashed  the  tears  from  her  eyes, 
as  she  answered  —  "Nothing,  Maman.  I  think 
—  it  is  so  beautiful  here !  —  So  peaceful !  It  made 
me  cry.     Let  me  cry  a  little  on  your  heart." 

There  was  a  sad  smile  on  Madame's  face.  As 
if  you  cried  because  the  sun  was  shining  and  the 
Walk  was  quiet!  "Cry,  Marjolaine,"  she  mur- 
mured soothingly.  "Do  you  think  I  have  not 
been  watching  you  all  this  week.?  Cry,  my 
darling,  and  tell  me." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell,  Maman,"  said  the 

115 


POMANDER     WALK 

girl  between  her  sobs.  "Really  and  truly  there 
is  nothing."  She  looked  wistfully  towards  the 
river.  "There  was  something;  but  — "  and 
down  went  her  head  on  her  mother's  breast  — 
"there  is  nothing  now." 

Madame  stroked  the  fair  head  lying  on  her 
bosom.  "My  dear,  my  dear!  —  I  tried  every 
day  to  speak  to  you,  but  you  would  not.  For 
the  first  time  in  our  lives  you  and  I,  who  should 
be  everything  to  each  other,  were  parted." 

"Oh,  Maman!"  cried  Marjolaine,  looking  up 
into  her  mother's  face,  "that  was  because  I 
was  waiting  to  tell  you  a  great  secret.  But  the 
secret  no  longer  exists.  It  has"  —  she  made  one 
of  her  quaint  little  gestures  —  "it  has  —  evap- 
orated!" And  with  a  new  outburst  of  tears  she 
again  hid  her  face. 

Madame  looked  at  her  lovingly,  and  kept 
silence  a  moment.  So,  then,  there  was  a  secret."* 
What  secret .-^  What  but  one  secret  is  ever  in  a 
young  girl's  heart.''  "Ah,  cherie,"  she  murmured, 
"you  see.^  The  secret  exists:  it  is  gnawing  at 
your  heart.  It  will  hurt  you  and  hurt  you,  till 
you  tell  me." 

Marjolaine  looked  up.  Her  mother  was  right. 
Speaking  might  bring  her  some  relief.  She  would 
tell  her.  She  tried  to  speak;  but  a  look  of  puz- 
zled amazement  came  into  her  eyes.  Now  that 
she  was  willing  and  anxious  to  speak,  she  had 
nothing  to  say. 

ii6 


Hi 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Tell  me,"  repeated  Madame, 

"I  can't,  Maman." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  cannot  begin  alone:   I  don't  know  how." 
Shall  I  help  you,  Marjolaine?" 
^ Can  you?" 

Madame  could  only  guess;  but  even  if  the 
guess  were  mistaken,  it  might  lead  to  the  truth. 
So  she  spoke  tentatively. 

"Let  us  say,  you  were  sitting  here,  under  the 
elm?    And  that  stranger,  that  young  man  —  " 

There  was  no  need  to  go  on.  Marjolaine  had 
already  risen  to  her  feet.  Her  thoughts  were  let 
loose:  all  the  thoughts  she  had  locked  in  her 
breast  during  the  past  week,  the  memories  that 
had  been  tormenting  her,  the  problems  she  had 
been  struggling  with.  She  saw  Jack  Sayle  as  if 
he  were  standing  before  her.  "He  stood  over 
there,  in  the  sun  "  —  she  spoke  quietly  but  in- 
tensely—  "and  he  looked  at  me,  and  I  looked  at 
him;  and  — "  her  voice  was  hushed,  and  although 
she  addressed  her  mother  she  did  not  turn  to  her, 
but  kept  her  eyes  on  the  spot  where  Jack  had 
stood  —  "Mother!  what  happened  to  me?  I 
felt  as  if  he  and  I  had  always  known  each  other, 
and  as  if  we  were  alone  in  the  world.  No!  As 
if  he  were  alone,  and  I  were  a  part  of  him.  And 
we  spoke.  Nothings.  Things  that  didn't  matter. 
Silly  things;  about  his  being  thirsty,  and  what 
I  could  give  him.     But  it  was  only  our  voices 

117 


POMANDER     WALK 

speaking.  I  know  it  was  only  my  voice:  it  was 
not  I.  I  was  thinking  of  sunshine  and  music 
and  flowers.  And  then  we  went  into  the  Gazebo; 
and  the  foolish  talk  ran  on!  And  all  the  time 
my  heart  was  singing!  —  He  told  me  his  name; 
and  my  heart  took  it  and  wove  music  around  it, 
and  sang  it!  and  sang  it!"  Her  voice  sank  to  an 
awed  whisper.  "And  —  Mother!  —  I  seemed 
to  step  out  of  childhood  suddenly,  into  —  into 
what,  Mother.?  —  What  was  it.?" 

"Alas!"  sighed  Madame.  The  child's  words 
had  carried  her  back,  so  far,  so  far!  Back  to  her 
own  early  youth.  Just  so  had  the  day  been 
transfigured  for  her.  Just  so  the  sunshine  had 
taken  on  a  new  glamour.  Just  so  her  own  heart 
had  sung  its  hymns  of  rapture.  Just  so  she  had 
stepped  across  the  threshold  of  childhood. 

But  Marjolaine  continued.  "When  he  went, 
I  felt  as  if  he  had  taken  me  with  him:  my  heart 
and  my  mind.  He  said  he  was  coming  again  — 
but  he  never  came;  and  every  day  I  have  wan- 
dered about;  looking  for  what  he  had  taken; 
looking  for  my  life!"  she  sank  on  her  knees  at  her 
mother's  feet.  "He  will  never  come  again! 
He  will  never  bring  back  what  he  has  carried 
away!  —  Oh,  mother,  what  is  it.?" 

Her  tears  flowed  freely  now,  but  silently: 
tears  of  relief  at  having  unburdened  her  heart. 
Madame  looked  down  at  her  with  such  pity  as 
only  a  mother  can  feel.     "My  darling!    Is  it  so 

ii8 


POMANDER  WALK 

serious  as  that?  God  help  us,  poor  blind  things!" 
She  remembered  what  she  must  have  been  doing 
while  this  fateful  meeting  took  place.  "While 
my  child  was  going  through  the  fire,  I  was 
matching  silks  for  my  embroidery!" 

Marjolaine  looked  up  at  her  with  great.  Inno- 
cent eyes.  "But  it  would  have  been  the  same  if 
you  had  been  there!" 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Madame,  sadly.  "There 
is  no  barrier  against  it:  not  even  a  mother's 
arms." 

"But  what  is  it?"  asked  Marjolaine,  wistfully. 

Her  mother  looked  at  her  searchingly,  and 
Marjolaine  met  her  gaze  steadfastly,  with  her 
clear,  truthful  eyes.  It  was  patent  she  did  not 
indeed  know  what  caused  this  new  pain  at  her 
heart.  Madame  looked  long.  Her  daughter 
seemed,  in  a  way,  suddenly  to  have  become  a 
stranger  to  her.  This  child  was  a  child  no  longer, 
and  her  mother  no  longer  held  the  first  place  in 
her  heart.  Yes!  and  if  Marjolaine  had  suddenly 
leapt  out  of  childhood,  then  she,  the  mother,  must 
begin  to  face  old  age:  she  was  the  mother  of  a 
marriageable  girl.  She  would  fight  against  this 
while  she  could;  not  for  unworthy  or  small 
motives,  but  to  keep  her  daughter's  companion- 
ship. Who  was  this  Jack  Sayle  that  he  should 
come  like  a  thief  in  the  night  and  steal  Marjo- 
laine's  youth,  her  happiness  and  her  peace  of 
mind,  and  tear  the  girl  out  of  her  mother's  arms? 

119 


POMANDER     WALK 

"No,"  she  said,  at  last,  "I  will  not  tell  you.  If 
I  told  you  it  would  grow  stronger;  and  it  must 
not.  It  shall  not.  You  must  win  yourself  back, 
as  I  did.    Oh!  but  sooner,  and  more  completely!" 

Marjolaine  was  amazed.  Had  her  mother 
gone  through  what  she  was  going  through  now.^ 
"As  you  did —  J"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  which 
betrayed  her  astonishment. 

Madame  smiled  sadly.  "My  dearest  dear, 
the  young  never  realise  they  are  not  beginning 
the  world.    Your  story  is  mine." 

With  a  cry  of  "Oh,  mother!"  Marjolaine  nes- 
tled closer. 

"Yes;  but  mine  was  longer  and  therefore  left 
more  pain  in  its  track.  Cherie,  cherie,  I  am  not 
telling  you  this  to  make  light  of  your  sorrow, 
but  to  show  you  I  know  what  your  pain  is:  to 
show  you  how  to  fight  now,  now,  with  all  your 
might,  to  win  yourself  back."  She  paused  a 
moment,  to  gather  her  thoughts  and  to  gather 
strength.  Then  she  continued  very  softly,  al- 
most as  if  she  were  speaking  to  herself,  "It  was 
years  and  years  ago,  in  my  father's  garden  —  in 
the  old  vicarage  garden  —  that  I  felt  the  sun  and 
the  song  enter  my  heart.  He  and  I  were  very 
young  and  very  happy."  Madame  paused. 
"And  then  he  rode  away;  and  I  never  saw  him 
again." 

"Maman!"  whispered  Marjolaine,  stroking  her 
mother's  cheek. 

1 20 


POMANDER  WALK 


((' 


We  had  lived  in  our  dream  a  wliole  year;  so 
my  love  —  " 

Marjolaine  started  at  the  word.  "Love!" 
Was  this  love?  — 

But  her  mother  did  not  notice  her,  and  went 
on;  "So  my  love  had  time  to  grow.  Its  roots 
were  twined  round  my  heart;  and  when  he  left 
me,  and  tore  the  roots  out  of  me,  I  thought  he 
had  torn  my  heart  out  with  them," 

"Like  me,"  said  Marjolaine,  below  her  breath. 

Madame  drew  her  closer,  and  whispered, 
"Would  you  like  to  know  his  name?" 

There  was  something  in  her  mother's  voice 
which  told  Marjolaine  her  mother  had  some 
special  reason  for  asking  her.  "Yes;  what  was 
it?"  she  asked,  hushed,  and  very  tenderly. 

Her  mother  looked  straight  into  her  eyes  and 
answered  slowly,  "Jack  —  Sayle." 

Marjolaine  recoiled  in  amazement.  "Mother! 
—  I  don't  understand!" 

"The  father  of  the  boy  you  have  seen!" 

"How  wonderful!" 

"Much  more  wonderful  things  happen  every 
day.  It's  much  more  wonderful  that  I  can  tell 
you  this  now:  that  I  ever  grew  out  of  my  love. 
For  I  loved  him  —  ah,  how  deeply!" 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

Here  was  a  curious  thing.  If  any  profane  eye 
had  lighted  on  the  group  —  the  young  girl  kneel- 
ing at  Madame's  feet  in  the  green  coolness  of 

121 


POMANDER     WALK 

the  elm;  that  profane  eye  would  have  got  the 
impression  that  here  were  a  mother  and  daughter 
closely  linked  in  some  common  sorrow,  and 
clinging  to  each  other  for  mutual  consolation. 
In  one  sense  that  impression  would  have  been 
the  right  one;  but  in  one  sense  only.  Their 
thoughts  were  worlds  apart.  Madame  was 
remembering  the  days  when  she  was  Lucy 
Pryor,  the  daughter  of  the  vicar  of  Otford.  The 
great  Lord  Otford  was  Lord  of  the  Manor,  and 
his  son,  the  Honourable  John  Sayle,  being  a 
delicate  lad,  was  studying  desultorily  with  the 
Vicar.  The  Vicar  was  more  interested  in  butter- 
flies than  in  Greek  roots,  and  the  boy  and  girl 
spent  most  of  their  time  in  the  great  vicarage 
garden.  Thus  the  lad  had  grown  strong  and 
well  set  up.  He  was  gazetted  into  the  Army,  and 
sent  to  America,  where  the  war  had  just  broken 
out.  There  he  stayed  five  years.  Lucy  treasured 
the  dearest  memories  of  her  playfellow,  and 
when  he  came  back,  a  splendid  lieutenant,  it  Is 
hardly  necessary  to  say  that  they  fell  seriously 
in  love.  Their  love  was  patent  to  everyone 
except  the  vicar  and  the  old  Lord.  When  the 
latter  discovered  it,  his  fury  was  indescribable. 
He  drove  the  vicar  out  of  his  living,  and  had  him 
transferred  to  a  miserable  parish  in  the  East- 
end  of  London,  where  there  was  n't  a  single 
butterfly;  and  he  sent  his  son,  who  had  retired 
from  the  army,  on  the  Grand  Tour.    The  lovers 

122 


POMANDER     WALK 

parted,  vowing  to  be  faithful;  but  young  Saylc 
very  soon  forgot  his  vows  in  the  excitement  of 
travel.  At  Rome  he  met  the  Honourable  Mabel 
Scott,  daughter  of  Lord  Polhousie,  and,  to  cut 
a  long  story  short,  he  married  her,  without  a 
thought  for  poor  Lucy,  whom  the  shock  nearly 
killed.  Nor  did  he  ever  know  the  blow  he  had 
inflicted,  nor  ever  hear  from  her,  or  of  her,  again. 
She  was  lost  in  the  wilderness  of  London.  A  few 
years  later  he  had  succeeded  his  father,  and  was 
sent  as  Ambassador  to  Vienna.  In  the  same  year 
his  son  John  —  our  Jack  —  was  born,  and  his 
birth  was  closely  followed  by  the  mother's  death. 
Marjolaine,  too,  was  thinking  hard.  All 
sorts  of  new  ideas,  new  conceptions,  were  loom- 
ing on  her  horizon.  They  came  as  angels, 
certainly,  but  angels  with  flaming  swords.  It 
seemed  that  great  happiness  could  be  inextri- 
cably interwoven  with  great  misery,  so  that  a 
simple  human  being  could  not  tell  where  the  one 
began  and  the  other  ended.  It  seemed  that  a 
man  could  say  one  thing  and  mean  another: 
that  he  could  look  like  the  Archangel  Michael 
and  yet  not  mean  what  he  said.  It  seemed  that 
you  could  be  wounded  in  all  your  finest  and  most 
sensitive  nerves  just  for  looking  at  a  man.  It 
seemed  also,  that  your  pride  was  of  no  use  to 
you  whatever,  but  deserted  you  when  it  was  most 
needed,  or,  rather,  turned  against  you,  and  helped 
to  hurt  you.    This  must  be  enquired  into. 

123 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Mere,  cherie,"  she  whispered. 

"What,  my  darling?"  asked  Madame,  coming 
out  of  her  dream. 

Marjolaine  pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart. 
There  was  an  actual  physical  pain  there,  as  if  an 
iron  band  were  crushing  it.  "Is  this  —  is  what 
I  feel  — love.?" 

"Ah!"  cried  Madame,  "I  have  betrayed  my- 
self. I  did  not  mean  you  to  know.  I  am  afraid 
it  was  going  to  be  —  love." 

"Going  to  be!  But  it  is!  Or  else,  this  ache? 
What  is  it.?" 

"Crush  it  now!"  Madame  was  distressed. 
She  would  not  allow  Marjolaine's  young  life  to 
be  blighted  as  her  own  had  been.  "Crush  it 
now!  Fiercely!  ruthlessly!  and  it  will  be 
nothing.    You  have  only  seen  him  once  —  " 

"Does  that  make  any  difference.?" 

What  could  one  answer  to  such  a  question.^ 
One  could  only  ignore  it.  "You  must  be  very 
brave;  very  determined;  and  put  the  thought 
of  him  away." 

Marjolaine  shook  her  head  sadly.  How  could 
she  put  the  thought  of  him  away.?  It  was  in  her. 
It  filled  her.  It  was  she  herself.  And  did  she 
want  to  put  it  away.?  Would  she  put  it  away  if 
she  could.?  It  seemed  to  her  that  if  the  thought 
were  withdrawn  now,  she  would  be  left  a  hollow 
husk  of  a  thing,  with  no  thought  at  all. 

Madame  saw  she  had  gone  too  far  too  quickly. 

124 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Dear,  I  know.  It  took  me  a  long  time,  because 
I  had  been  happy  so  long;  but  at  last,  when  your 
father  came,  I  was  able  to  put  my  hand  in  his, 
and  look  straight  into  his  eyes." 

Here  was  a  new  mystery  for  Marjolaine.  So 
good  and  beautiful  a  woman  as  her  mother  could 
love  twice,  then? 

"Mother,"  said  she,  with  grave  enquiry,  "did 
you  love  my  father  as  much  as  you  had  loved 
Jack?" 

However  good  and  blameless  we  may  be,  it  is 
a  very  uncomfortable  experience  to  be  cross- 
examined  by  utter,  single-minded  innocence. 

"Listen,"  said  Madame,  "life  is  long,  and 
nature  merciful.  I  recovered  very  slowly;  but 
I  tried  to  be  brave;  I  tried  to  take  an  interest 
in  the  life  around  me:  the  sordid,  sunless  life 
of  the  very  poor,  so  much  sadder  than  my  own. 
Then  Jules  Lachesnais  came  to  live  with  us  — 
with  my  father  and  me  —  in  order  to  study  the 
English  language  and  our  political  Institutions. 
A  great  friendship  sprang  up  between  us.  When 
my  father  died,  Jules  urged  me  to  marry  him. 
I  was  utterly  alone  in  the  world;  I  felt  a  deep 
affection  for  him;   and  I  consented." 

She  waited  for  Marjolaine  to  say  something; 
but  Marjolaine  was  silent. 

"He  took  me  to  France,  where  you  were  born. 
We  went  through  the  horrors  of  the  Revolution 
side  by  side.     He  played  an  active  part  In  those 

125 


POMANDER  WALK 

horrible  days;  always  on  the  side  of  justice  and 
moderation.  The  aim  of  his  life  was  to  see  his 
country  under  a  constitutional  government, 
such  as  he  had  learnt  to  admire  during  his  stay 
in  England.  The  excesses  he  was  forced  to  wit- 
ness disgusted  him,  and  he  resisted  them  with  all 
his  might."  Madame  was  lost  in  her  reminis- 
cences. "Ah,  yes!  You  were  too  young  to  know; 
but  we  all  ran  grave  risks  of  falling  victims  to 
the  guillotine.  Your  father  hailed  Napoleon  as 
a  deliverer;  but  when  Napoleon  began  to  usurp 
power,  he  foresaw  the  dawning  tyranny;  still 
more  when  Napoleon  was  made  consul  for  life. 
He  retired  more  and  more  from  public  affairs, 
thereby  incurring  the  tyrant's  anger  and  again 
endangering  his  life.  When  Napoleon  was  pro- 
claimed Emperor  your  father  protested  publicly 
—  think  of  the  courage!  He  was  expelled,  and 
he  died  disappointed  and  heartbroken.  He 
was  a  brave,  true  man,  faithful  to  his  ideals.  I 
was  very  proud  of  him;  very  happy  and  con- 
tented. And  I  am  very  happy  and  contented 
now,"  she  added  defiantly,  —  "or  I  shall  be, 
when  I  see  you  have  won  the  victory! " 

But  Marjolaine  was  merciless.  This  was  all 
very  well,  as  far  as  her  mother  was  concerned. 
"But  what  became  of  poor  Jack?  "  she  asked. 

"Poor  Jack!  "  Madame  laughed  bitterly. 
"Poor  Jack  had  married  some  great  lady!  " 

At  once  poor  Jack  had  lost  all  Marjolaine's 

126 


POMANDER     WALK 

sympathy.      She   muttered    between   her   teeth, 
"Caroline  Thrlng." 

"I  tell  you,"  protested  Madame  —  and  per- 
haps she  protested  just  a  shade  too  strongly  — 
"I  ceased  to  think  of  him.    I  forgot  him." 

Marjolaine's  brow  was  puckered  in  thought. 
Could  one  forget?  "But,  mother,"  she  said, 
very  simply,  "if  you  had  forgotten  him,  why  did 
you  swoon  when  you  heard  his  name?" 

Down  went  the  cloak  of  self-deception 
Madame  had  so  carefully  wrapped  round  her- 
self. She  took  her  daughter's  face  in  both  her 
hands  and  looked  at  her  sadly.  "Ah!  my 
little  girl  is  become  a  woman  indeed!  The 
innocence  of  the  dove,  and  the  guile  of  the  ser- 
pent! —  Well!  Think  over  what  I  have  told  you. 
Come,  now,  cherie,  you  promise  to  fight?" 

"Yes,"  said  Marjolaine,  without  conviction. 

"You  promise  to  conquer?" 
I  promise  to  try." 

'At  least  you  see  there  can  be  nothing  be- 
tween Lord  Otford's  son  and  my  daughter?" 

"Yes."    Oh,  what  a  hesitating  yes! 

Madame  folded  her  in  her  arms.  "Try  to 
lighten  someone  else's  sorrow,"  she  said,  kissing 
her  tenderly,  "then  you  will  forget  your  own, 
and  the  roses  will  bloom  In  your  cheeks  again." 

The   Walk   was   beginning   to   show   signs   of 

life.     The   Eyesore   came   slouching   back,    and 

resumed  his  fishing  with  a  lack-lustre  eye.    The 

127 


POMANDER     WALK 

early  housekeeping  having  got  itself  done,  the 
ladies  of  the  Walk  were  showing  themselves  at 
their  windows,  tending  their  flowers  or  dusting 
their  ornaments.  Miss  Ruth  Pennymint  came 
bustling  out  of  her  door,  with  needlework.  She 
looked  up  at  the  overcast  sky  and  held  up  the 
back  of  her  hand. 

"Ah,"  said  Madame,  catching  sight  of  her. 
*' Coming  into  the  fresh  air  to  work,  Miss  Ruth.^  " 

Miss  Ruth  was  evidently  not  in  the  best  of 
tempers.  "Of  course  it's  going  to  rain,"  she 
snapped. 

"Oh,  not  yet,"  said  Madame,  conciliatorily. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  sew  here.^"  said  Miss 
Ruth.  "It's  so  lonesome  in  the  house,  when 
Barbara's  locked  up  with  that  precious  bird!" 

What  could  be  the  matter.''  The  word  "pre- 
cious" was  uttered  in  a  manner  which  conveyed 
an  exactly  opposite  meaning.  Madame  said 
soothingly,  "That  is  so  touching!"  And  Ruth 
snorted.  There  is  no  other  word.  She  snorted. 
Madame  and  Marjolainc  glanced  at  each  other, 
and  both  moved  towards  the  house.  But  Miss 
Ruth  had  no  intention  of  being  left  alone. 
"Marjory!  "  she  called.  Marjolaine  came  back; 
and  Madame  went  into  Number  Four  alone. 


128 


CHAPTER    VIII 


CONCERNING   A   GREAT   CONSPIRACY 

NOW  Marjolaine  did  not  want  to  talk  to 
Miss  Ruth  just  at  that  moment,  and  it 
says  much  for  her  sweetness  of  charac- 
ter that  she  came  back  docilely.  "Marjory," 
said  Miss  Ruth,  looking  at  her  searchingly, 
"you  haven't  had  a  singing-lesson  this 
week." 

Marjolaine  was  confused,  and  a  little  angry. 
She  had  just  exhausted  the  subject  with  her 
mother,  and  it  was  too  bad  to  be  thrust  into 
the  midst  of  it  again  by  this  comparative 
stranger.  So  she  answered  rather  coldly,  "I 
have  n't  been  quite  myself." 

"So  I  saw,"  said  Miss  Ruth,  examining  her 

129 


POMANDER  WALK 

over  her  spectacles.  A  hot  flush  rose  to  Mar- 
jolalne's  cheeks.  Had  she  really  been  v/earlng 
her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  and  showing  the  whole 
Walk  the  state  of  her  feelings.^  She  must  be 
more  careful  in  future. 

"Anything   the   matter.?"   asked   Miss  Ruth. 

Marjolaine  answered  hastily,  "Oh,  nothing. 
Nothing  to  speak  of." 

"H'm,"  said  Miss  Ruth,  violently  biting 
off  a  cotton-end.  Then  she  added,  "Barbara 
was  quite  upset." 

"How  sweet  of  her!"  cried  Marjolaine. — • 
Dear,  sympathetic  little  Barbara! 

"Oh!  Not  so  much  about  you,"  said  Miss 
Ruth  rather  acidly.  "But  she  looks  forward 
to  sitting  with  you  and  Mr.  Pringle,  when  you 
are  singing." 

"Is  she  so  fond  of  music?"  asked  Marjolaine, 
glad  to  turn  the  conversation  into  a  less  personal 
channel. 

"Bless  your  dear  heart,  no!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Ruth  sharply.  "Now,  would  she  sit  and  listen 
to  you  if  she  were.?  She  does  n't  know  one  note 
from  another." 

It  seemed  to  Marjolaine  that  the  conversation 
was  becoming  rather  personal,  so  she  held  her 
tongue. 

But  Miss  Ruth  evidently  had  something  on 
her  mind  of  which  she  was  anxious  to  relieve 
herself. 

130 


POMANDER     WALK 


((' 


No,  it  is  n't  that,"  she  said  with  a  world  of 
meaning  which  challenged  enquiry. 

Marjolaine  obliged  her,  although  she  felt  no 
interest.    "  What  is  it,  then  ? " 

Having  succeeded  in .  getting  the  question 
she  wanted.  Miss  Ruth  made  a  feint  of  retreating. 
"Pfft!"  she  said,  with  the  action  of  blowing 
some  annoying  insect  away,  and  then,  crypti- 
cally, "Oh!  grant  me  patience!" 

"Ruth!"  exclaimed  Marjolaine,  astonished 
at  her  violence. 

"Well!"  cried  Ruth,  still  more  sharply.  "It 
seems  to  me  the  whole  house  is  bewitched  — 
that  ever  I  should  say  such  a  thing." 

Marjolaine  grew  more    and    more   surprised. 

Oh!     I  thought  you  were  so  happy!" 

I  'm  happy  enough,"  snapped  Ruth,  "be- 
cause I  'm  not  a  fool.  But  what  with  that 
feller  upstairs,  and  Barbara  down,  a  body  has 
no  peace  of  her  life." 

Now,  what  could  she  mean?  Of  course  Mr. 
Pringle  was  upstairs,  and  of  course  Barbara  was 
downstairs.  How  could  that  perfectly  natural 
state  of  things  aif ect  the  peace  of  Miss  Ruth's  life .'' 
Tell  me,"  said  Marjolaine. 
Ha'  n't  you  noticed  anything.''  No.  I 
s'pose  you  're  too  young.  Don't  know  shecps' 
eyes  when  you  see  'em!" 

What  on  earth  had  sheets'  eyes  come  into 
the  story  for? 

131 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Sheeps'  eyes?"  Marjolaine  asked,  utterly 
puzzled. 

"  'T  is  n't  for  me  to  say  anything,"  Miss  Ruth 
continued,  "  but  with  him  mooning  about  the 
house,  like"  —  words  failed  her  —  "like  I  don't 
know  what;  and  her  moping,  like  a  hen  with 
the  pip,  it 's  enough  to  give  a  body  the  fan- 
toddles  —  as  my  poor,  dear  mother  used  to  say." 

Marjolaine  suddenly  saw  light.  Here,  under 
her  very  eyes,  was  another  romance,  like  her 
own  —  only,  of  course,  on  an  infinitely  lower 
plane,  because  it  held  no  thread  of  tragedy 
—  and  she  had  been  blind  to  it.  This  was 
lovely!  But  she  must  make  sure.  She  turned 
to  Miss  Ruth  and  asked  eagerly —  "Are  they  — 
are  they  fond  of  each  other.'"' 

Ruth  quite  unnecessarily  bit  off  another 
cotton-end.  "I  don't  know!"  she  cried  crosslv; 
but  at  once  added,  "Yes,  of  course  they  are!" 

Marjolaine  was  more  puzzled  than  ever. 
"Then,  why  don't  they  say  so.^"  she  asked, 
quite  simply. 

"  That 's  what  I  want  to  know,"  said  Miss 
Ruth. 

Lovers  who  might  be  perfectly  happy,  kept 
apart  for  want  of  a  word,  thought  Marjolaine. 
How  wicked,  and  how  silly!  "  You  should  speak 
to  Mr.  Basil,"  she  said,  with  all  the  gravity  of 
her  nineteen  years  and  of  her  bitter  experience. 
Me!"  cried  Miss  Ruth.     "Bless  your  dear 

132 


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POMANDER  WALK 

heart,  he  'd  up  and  run  away.  He  's  that  shy 
a  body  can't  look  at  him  but  he  wants  to 
hide  in  a  cupboard.  He  's  got  it  into  his  silly 
head  he  is  n't  good  enough.  As  if  anybody  'd 
notice  his  shoulder!" 

"Perhaps,"  said  Marjolaine,  pensively,  "if 
Barbara  showed  him  she  liked  him  —  Why 
don't   you    speak   to   her.^   Sympathetically." 

"  So  I  did,  just  now.  Told  her  she  was  an 
idiot.  What  did  she  do?  She  burst  out  crying, 
and  went  and  shut  herself  up  with  that  parrot." 

"Ah!"  sighed  Marjolaine,  with  a  pathetic 
look  at  the  Gazebo,  where  she  had  been  so 
happy  so  short  a  time,  so  long  ago,  "Ah,  yes! 
The  old  love!"     How  well  she  understood! 

"Old  frying-pan!"  cried  Ruth. 

"Ruth!"  exclaimed  Marjolaine,  deeply 
shocked.     "The  poor  parrot." 

"Oh,  that  bird!  — Marjory!"  said  Ruth, 
firmly,  as  if  the  time  had  come  to  utter  a  bitter 
but  necessary  truth  at  all  costs,  "Marjory, 
there  are  times  when  I  'd  give  anybody  a  two- 
penny bit  to  wring  that  bird's  neck!" 

But  Marjolaine  had  not  been  listening  to  her. 
The  mention  of  the  parrot  had  set  her  thoughts 
working;  her  face  suddenly  lighted  up  with  the 
inspired  look  of  one  who  has  just  conceived  an 
epoch-making  idea.  "Ruth!"  she  cried,  running 
up  to  her. 

Ruth    naturally    thought    she    was    shocked. 

133 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Well,  I  don't  care!  I  mean  it.     If  it  wasn't 
for  that  bird  —  " 

But  Marjolaine  had  snatched  Ruth's  needle- 
work away  and  was  trying  to  drag  her  from 
the  seat  by  both  hands.  "I  was  n't  thinking  of 
the  bird!  Yes,  I  was  thinking  of  the  bird,  but 
I  was  n't  thinking  what  you  thought  I  was 
thinking.  Oh!  what  nonsense  you  make  me 
talk!" 

"Whatever 's  got  into  the  child's  head.''" 
cried  Miss  Ruth,  swept  off  her  feet. 

"Come!"  insisted  Marjolaine.  "Quick! 
Come,    and    tell    Barbara    I    want    her." 

"What  do  you  want  her  for.?"  asked  Miss 
Ruth,  struggling. 

"  I  must  n't  tell  you  yet,  she  may  refuse." 

"Bless  us  and  save  us!"  cried  Miss  Ruth,  now 
on  her  feet,  and  struck  by  the  change  in  Mar- 
jolaine's  appearance,  "now  your  cheeks  are 
glowing  again!" 

"Maman  said  they  would!"  laughed  Mar- 
jolaine. Positively,  for  the  moment  she  had 
forgotten    her    sorrows.      "Come    along!" 

"Wait!    My  mouth  's  full  of  pins!" 

Seeing  the  two  ladies  under  the  tree.  Sir  Peter 
Antrobus  had  come  out,  anxious  for  a  little 
conversation.  He  was  much  disappointed  when 
he  observed  they  were  leaving  the  lawn. 

"Going  in,  just  as  I'm  coming  out.'"'  said 
he,  reproachfully. 

134 


P  0  M  A  N  D  E  R     W  A  L  K 

"Yes,"  laughed  Marjolaine  on  the  top  step, 
and  looking  up  at  the  threatening  sky,  "like 
the  little  people  in  the  weather  cottages:  you 
come  out  for  the  rain;  and  I  go  in  for  the  sun- 
shine." Which,  of  course  was  extremely  in- 
accurate, but  the  correct  statement  would  have 
spoiled    her    meaning    entirely. 

"How  are  the  peas  coming  on.  Admiral?" 
asked  Miss  Ruth,  for  the  sake  of  politeness. 

Sir  Peter's  temper  was  already  ruffled  by  the 
disappointment  of  his  sociable  intentions.  Now 
he  burst  out,  "  How  the  doose  can  they  come 
on,  Ma'am,  when  that  everlasting  cat  roots  'em 
up  every  night  .f*" 

I  am  sorry  to  say.  Miss  Ruth  laughed  as  he 
disappeared  into  the  house.  The  Admiral  came 
towards  Sempronius,  who  was  now  wide  awake 
and  watching  the  Eyesore's  float  with  lively  in- 
terest; he  shook  his  fist  at  him  —  I  mean  the 
Admiral  shook  his  fist  at  the  cat  —  with  comic 
fury,  and  found  himself  shaking  his  fist  at  Lord 
Otford,  who  had  just  turned  the  corner. 

"Shaking  your  fist  at  me,  Peter.'"'  asked  Lord 
Otford,  with  a  grim  laugh. 

"  HuUoa,  Otford!"  cried  the  Admiral,  feeling 
rather  foolish. 

Moreover,  he  was  not  particularly  pleased 
to  see  Otford  at  that  precise  moment.  Only 
half-an-hour  ago  he  had  surprised  Marjolaine's 
confidence.     He  had  not  had  time  to  think  the 

135 


POMANDER    WALK 

matter  over  and  make  up  his  mind,  and  now  that 
he  found  himself  without  warning  face  to  face 
with  Jack's  father,  he  was  torn  between  two 
conflicting  emotions.  On  the  one  hand  he  felt 
he  ought  to  tell  Otford  about  Jack  and  Marjo- 
laine.  That  was  his  plain  duty;  but  it  was  one 
of  those  forms  of  duty  which  everybody  tries 
to  find  some  plausible  excuse  for  evading.  He 
had  surprised  Marjolaine's  confidence:  she  had 
not  given  it  voluntarily.  On  the  other  hand  he 
suspected  that  Jack's  breach  of  faith  in  not 
coming  near  the  Walk  for  a  whole  week  was 
due  to  some  interference  on  the  part  of  his  father, 
and  he  was  so  fond  of  Marjolaine,  and  so  jealous 
of  the  status  of  the  Walk,  that  he  resented  such 
interference  even  before  he  knew  whether  Otford 
had  interfered.  His  keen  eye  saw,  even  while 
they  were  shaking  hands,  that  there  was  some- 
thing on  his  friend's  mind. 

"How  are  you.?"  asked  Lord  Otford,  per- 
functorily.   "Have  you  a  moment  to  spare.?" 

"All  day;  thanks  to  this  confounded  govern- 
ment," growled  the  Admiral. 

Lord  Otford  plunged  into  the  thick  of  his 
business  at  once.  "I  am  in  great  trouble,"  he 
blurted  out,  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  expects 
sympathy. 

He  didn't  get  it.  "Damme!  you're  in 
trouble  once  a  week!"  said  the  Admiral.  "Here! 
Come  Into  the  Gazebo." 

136 


POMANDER     WALK 

Lord  Otford  started  at  the  word.  "The 
Gazebo?  —  Ha!      Very  appropriate!" 

"Eh?  Why?"  asked  Sir  Peter,  sitting  on  the 
seat  in  the  summer-house  and  making  room  for  his 
friend  beside  him.  Lord  Otford  produced  a  crum- 
pled letter  from  his  pocket.  "Here!  Read  this!" 
said  he,  thrusting  it  under  Sir  Peter's  nose. 

"Can't,"  said  the  latter,  curtly,  "haven't 
my    spy-glass    on    me!" 

"Well,  listen."  Lord  Otford  read  the  letter 
aloud,  with  Ill-suppressed  fury.  —  "  'My  lord  — 
It  is  my  painful  duty  to  Inform  your  Lordship 
that  your  Lordship's  son,  the  Hon.  John  Sayle, 
is  carrying  on  a  clandestine  love-affair  with 
Mademoiselle  Marjolaine  Lachesnais,  of  Po- 
mander Walk —' " 

The  Admiral  had  grown  purple  in  the  face. 
"Belay,  there!"  he  roared. 

Lord  Otford  took  no  notice,  but  went  on 
reading:  "  'Yesterday  they  were  together  for 
an  hour  in  the  Gazebo  —  '  " 

The  Admiral  would  have  no  more  of  it. 
"When  did  you  get  that,  and  who  sent  it?" 
he  roared.  The  fact  that  the  information  was 
true  was  quite  outweighed  by  the  Implication 
that  an  inhabitant  of  the  Walk  could  have  been 
guilty  of  the  lowest  form  of  treachery. 

"It's  signed,  'Your  true  Friend  and  Well- 
wisher,'"  said  Lord  Otford,  "and  I  had  it  on 
Sunday." 

137 


POMANDER     WALK 

The  Admiral  could  hardly  speak.     "Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  damned,  anonymous,  Sabbath- 
breaking  rag  came  from  Pomander  Walk?" 
I   presume  so." 

Who  sent  it.^"  cried  the  Admiral,  jumping 
up  and  walking  to  and  fro  in  a  towering  rage. 
"Show  me  the  white-Hvered  scoundrel,  and  by 
Jehoshaphat!  I  '11  break  every  bone  in  his  body!" 
He  turned  sharply  towards  Otford.  "Is  it  a 
man's  writing,  or  a  woman's.^  " 

"It's  vague:  might  be  anybody's." 

The  Admiral  was  passing  the  houses  of  the 
Walk  in  review.  "  Can't  be  Sternroyd  —  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  —  Pringle  —  We  're  none  of  us  anony- 
mous slanderers."  His  eye  fell  on  the  Eyesore 
with  momentary  suspicion.  "Was  it  the  Eye- 
sore? " 

"The  Eyesore?  "  repeated  Lord  Otford,  not 
understanding. 

"  That  scare-crow,  fishing.  No;  of  course  not. 
He  does  n't  know  you,  and  I  don't  believe  he 
can  write,  —  But,  what  of  it.  Jack?  You're 
not  worried  by  that  rubbish!  Why,  it 's  a  pack 
o'lles!"  (Oh,  Admiral,  Admiral!)  Lord  Otford 
tried  to  speak.  "Don't  interrupt!  —  I'm  here 
all  the  time.  Nothing  happens  in  Pomander 
Walk  that  I  don't  know.  Don't  Interrupt! — • 
I  was  here  when  Jack  came  last  Saturday.  He 
went  back  in  his  boat  before  you  could  say 
'Jack  Robinson,'   because  Madame  swooned!  " 

138 


POMANDER    WALK 

He  wiped  his  brow,  and  had  the  grace  to  add 
"Lord,  forgive  me!"  as  a  silent  prayer.  After 
all,  he  had  told  no  lie.  He  had  only  omitted  to 
say  how  long  Jack  had  been  there  before  he 
saw  him.  And  as  he  did  n't  know,  what  could 
he  have  said  ? 

Otford  found  his  opportunity  of  speaking  at 
last.  "Now,  perhaps  you  '11  allow  me  to  say 
it 's  all  true,"  he  shouted. 

The  Admiral  shouted  louder.  "Do  you  take 
this  blackguard's  word  rather  than  mine,"*  "  he 
roared,  pointing  to  the  letter.  It  was  intolerable 
he  should  be  doubted,  even  if  he  were  not  telling 
the  whole  truth. 

"You  confounded  old  porcupine,"  Lord  Otford 
roared  back  at  him,  "Jack's  owned  up  to  the 
whole  thing!  " 

"What!  "  yelled  the  Admiral.  "Don't  shout 
like  that!  D'  ye  want  the  whole  Walk  to  hear.f* 
—  Sit  down.     Tell  me  again:  quietly!" 

"When  I  'd  read  this  letter,  I  taxed  him  with 
it,"  said  Lord  Otford,  "and  he  owned  up.  He 
came  here  last  Saturday:  met  the  damned  little 
French  gel  —  " 

"Jack!"  roared  the  Admiral,  flaring  up. 

"I'll  withdraw  'damned.'  Sat  an  hour  in 
this  infernal  what-d'-ye-call-it,  and  thinks  he  's 
in  love  with  her."  Sir  Peter  was  about  to  speak. 
"Don't  interrupt!  —  You  know  the  Sayles  when 
their  blood  's   up.     My  blood  was  up.     Jack's 

139 


POMANDER  WALK 

confounded  blood  was  up.  You  can  imagine 
the  scene  we  had.  He 's  as  pig-headed  and 
obstinate  as  —  as  —  " 

"As  his  father,"  put  in  Sir  Peter. 

"Don't  interrupt!"  roared  Lord  Otford. 
"He's  thrown  over  Caroline  Thring  —  won't 
hear  of  her."  Sir  Peter  chuckled.  "The  ut- 
most I  could  get  out  of  him  was  that  he  'd  wait 
a  week  to  make  sure  of  what  he  calls  his  mind." 

"Aha!"  said  Sir  Peter,  delighted. 

"Mind!  Puppy!  All  the  week  he's  gone 
about  like  a  bear  with  a  sore  head!  Had  the 
impudence  to  refuse  to  speak  to  me!  This 
morning  he  had  the  impudence  to  speak!  And 
what  d'  ye  think  he  said.''  " 

"Serves  ye  right,  whatever  it  was!"  cried 
Sir  Peter. 

Lord  Otford  did  n't  hear  him.  "He  said, 
'The  week  's  up,  and  I  'm  going  to  Pomander 
Walk!'" 

"Good  lad!"  roared  Sir  Peter,  slapping  his 
thigh,  and  breaking  into  a  loud  guffaw. 

"What!  "  shouted  Lord  Otford,  jumping  up. 
"You're  mad!  Think  of  what's  at  stake! 
Ninety-thousand  acres!  —  For  the  daughter  of 
a  Frenchwoman  from  the  Lord  knows  where. 
Who  was  the  gel's  father."*  —  Or,  rather,  who 
was  n't.?  " 

"Jack!"  roared  the  Admiral,  in  a  burst  of 
fury,  jumping  up  in  his  turn  and  facing  Otford. 

140 


POMANDER    WALK 

"I  withdraw! "  cried  Otford.  "  But  think  of 
it!"  He  was  looking  at  the  Walk.  In  the 
grey  light  of  the  coming  shower  the  houses 
were  certainly  not  seen  at  their  best.  "Think 
of  it!"  he  said  with  a  sweep  of  his  cane 
condemning  the  whole  Walk  to  instant  anni- 
hilation. "An  Otford  taking  his  wife  from 
these  —  these  —  Almshouses!  " 

The  Admiral  was  livid  —  apoplectic  —  hys- 
terical. Words  failed  him.  His  voice  failed 
him.  He  could  only  gasp,  "Almshouses!  — 
Pomander  Walk!  —  Almshouses!  " 

Lord  Otford  was  alarmed  at  the  effect  his 
words  had  produced.  "There!  there!  "  he  cried, 
almost  conciliatorily, "  I  withdraw  '  Almshouses ! ' " 

"Withdraw  more,  sir!"  said  the  Admiral, 
and  for  all  his  almost  grotesque  rage,  there  was 
a  ring  in  his  voice  which  compelled  respect. 
"How  dare  you  come  here,  abusing  the  sweetest, 
brightest,  most  winsome  —  " 

"I  believe  you  're  in  love  with  her  yourself! " 
cried  Otford. 

"And,  damme,  why  not?  —  Take  care  how 
you  talk  about  innocent  ladies  you  Vc  never 
set  eyes  on! " 

"That's  it!"  cried  Otford,  glad  to  get  on 
safer  ground.  "That 's  why  I  'm  here.  You 
are  to  present  me  to  this  Madame  —  whatever 
her  confounded  name  is." 

"  In  your  present  temper?  "  roared  Sir  Peter, 

141 


POMANDER  WALK 

whose  own  temper  was  at  boiling  point.  "I'll 
walk  the  plank  first!  "  He  pointed  to  Madame's 
house.  "There's  her  house:  the  white  paint. 
Go  and  pay  your  respects."  He  came  close  up 
to  Otford,  and  spoke  straight  into  his  face. 
"Your  respects,  Jack!  You  '11  find  you  have 
to!  " 

"I  can't  force  my  way  into  the  house,  un- 
accompanied, and  you  know  it!" 

"Then  stay  away,  and  be  hanged!" 

Lord  Otford  was  nonplussed.  He  caught 
sight  of  the  Gazebo.  "I  '11  stay  here,"  he  said 
doggedly,  sitting  down  like  a  man  who  means 
never  to  move  again,  "and  If  Jack  shows  his 
nose  —  ! " 

The  Admiral  had  begun  to  stride  towards  his 
house.  He  came  back  and  put  his  red  face 
round  the  side  of  the  Gazebo.  "I  shall  be 
watching,  sir!"  this  with  blood-curdling  calmness. 
"And  if  you  dare  raise  a  disturbance,  I  '11  —  " 
he  could  not  think  of  anything  bad  enough. 
"I  '11  —  damme!    I  '11  set  the  Eyesore  at  you!  " 

He  stumped  oflF  towards  his  home  again, 
while  Lord  Otford  sank  back  in  his  seat,  folded 
his  arms,  and  said,  "Ha!"  with  grim  deter- 
mination. 

At  that  moment  Jack  came  hurrying  round 
the  corner  and  ran  straight  into  the  Admiral's 
arms.  At  that  fateful  moment  also  Madame 
must  needs  come  out  of  her  house.    Fortunately 

142 


POMANDER  WALK 

she  was  preoccupied  and  did  not  see  the  frantic 
pantomime  with  which  Sir  Peter  tried  to  explain 
to  Jack  that  his  father  was  hidden  in  the  Gazebo. 
Madame  called,  "Marjolaine!  Marjolaine!"  As 
we  know,  Marjolaine  was  with  the  Misses  Penny- 
mint,  and  Madame  received  no  answer.  Lord 
Otford  heard  her  from  his  hiding-place,  "Aha!  " 
he  said  to  himself,  "the  mother! "  and  he  sat  up 
at  attention. 

"Gobblessmysoul! "  whispered  the  Admiral, 
hoarsely.  "The  father  here,  and  the  mother 
there!     Jack!     Getaway!" 

Madame  had  turned  to  her  house  and  was 
calling  her  old  servant.     "Nanette!" 

Jack  refused  to  budge.  What  he  said  I  do  not 
know;  but  Sir  Peter  grew  still  more  frantic. 
Nanette  appeared  at  the  upstairs  window. 
"Quoi,  Madame.?" 

"I  '11  be  hanged  if  I  stir! "  said  Jack. 

"Ou  est  done  Mademoiselle.?"  said  Madame. 

"Je  ne  scais  pas,  Madame."  Madame  went 
back  into  her  little  garden,  and  looked  into  the 
ground-floor  window. 

"Come  inside,  then!"  said  Sir  Peter  to  Jack. 
But  Jack  saw  the  Eyesore,  who  was  placidly 
fishing,  and  a  broad  grin  spread  all  over  his  face. 
"No!  Better  idea!"  he  chuckled.  He  imparted 
the  idea  to  the  horrified  Admiral  in  a  whisper. 

Madame  spoke  to  Nanette  again.  "Vite! 
AUez  voir  si  son  chapeau  est  dans  sa  chambre! " 

143 


POMANDER    WALK 

Nanette  disappeared  from  the  window,  and 
Madame  stood  impatiently  looking  up  at  it 
awaiting  her  return. 

Whatever  Jack  had  said  to  the  Admiral  was 
of  such  a  nature  as  to  fill  that  ancient  salt  with 
horror.  He  threw  up  his  arms,  cried,  *'I  wash 
my  hands  of  it!"  and  dashed  into  his  house.  Jack 
quickly  said  something  to  the  Eyesore  which 
caused  the  latter  to  fling  his  rod  down  with 
alacrity,  and,  amazing  to  relate,  he  and  Jack 
hurried  round  the  corner  and  out  of  sight  to- 
gether. 

Nanette  reappeared  with  a  huge  Leghorn 
straw  hat.  "Oui,  Madame,  voila  le  chapeau  de 
Mademoiselle."  Then,  pointing  to  the  Gazebo, 
Mademoiselle  doit  etre  au  pavilion." 

Non,"  said  Madame,  "  je  viens  de  I'appeler." 
But  a  sudden  suspicion  flashed  across  her  mind. 
Could  Marjolaine  be  there  with  Jack,  and  afraid 
to  show  herself?  "Serait-il  possible?"  —  she 
cried,  and  came  hurriedly  towards  the  summer- 
house. 

Lord  Otford  had  heard  her  conversation  with 
Nanette,  and  had  risen;  so  that  Madame  found 
herself  abruptly  face  to  face  with  her  faithless 
lover. 


144 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN    WHICH    OLD    LOVERS 
MEET,    AND    THE 
CONSPIRACY    COMES 
TO    A    HEAD 

MADAME  knew  him  at  a  glance.  To 
some  extent  she  had  been  prepared 
for  his  coming  by  Jack's  previous  visit. 
As  Jack  was  acquainted  with  Sir  Peter,  it  was 
quite  likely  Lord  Otford  was  also,  and  nothing 
was  more  probable  than  that  he  should  come 
to  look  up  his  old  friend.  Nevertheless  this 
sudden  confrontation  startled  her,  and  she  could 
not  suppress  a  little  "Oh!"  of  surprise. 

Lord  Otford,  on  his  part,  was  too  much  occu- 
pied with  his  own  anger,  his  outraged  dignity, 
to  pay  more  than  very  superficial  attention  to 
her.     Moreover  she  had  changed  a  great  deal 

145 


POMANDER  WALK 

more  than  he.  He  had  left  her,  a  mere  strip  of  a 
girl,  and  now  she  was  a  dignified  and  very  beauti- 
ful woman.  He  was  not  thinking  of  Lucy  Pryor 
at  all  at  the  moment,  while  her  thoughts,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  were  full  of  the  Jack  Sayle 
of  old  days.  So  they  began  their  little  duel  with 
unequal  weapons.  Madame  was  absolutely 
self-possessed:  Otford  could  not  suppress  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  nervousness  in  the  presence  of 
this  calm  and  stately  lady  who  was  so  utterly 
different  from  anything  he  had  expected.  How- 
ever, he  pulled  himself  together  and  put  on  his 
grandest  and  most  overwhelming  manner. 

"I  am  the  trespasser,"  he  said,  with  a  con- 
descending bow,  in  answer  to  her  startled  cry. 
She  inclined  her  head  very  slightly,  and  turned 
to  go. 

"May  I  detain  you  a  moment?"  said  he, 
quickly. 

She  stopped  and  half  turned  towards  him. 
"  I  am  at  a  loss  —  "  she  said  coldly,  with  raised 
eyebrows. 

He  explained.  "I  heard  you  calling  your 
daughter."  Then,  very  stiffly,  "I  presume  you 
are  Madame  —  ah  —  "  he  made  pretence  to 
consult  the  anonymous  letter;  this  haughty 
person  should  know  she  was  not  of  sufflcient  im- 
portance for  him  even  to  remember  her  name, 
"Madame  Lachesnais."      -  ^    -    ^    >    -    -   - 

Madame    bowed    almost    imperceptibly    and 

146 


POMANDER     WALK 

something  very  like  a  mischievous  smile  lurked 
in  the  corners  of  her  lips. 

"  I  am  Lord  Otford  —  "  he  gave  his  name  quite 
simply,  as  a  gentleman  should,  yet  he  managed 
to  convey  that  It  was  a  great  name  and  that 
he  expected  the  announcement  of  it  to  make  its 
effect. 

Madame  made  a  slight  movement  with  her 
hand  as  If  she  were  brushing  away  something  of 
no  moment  whatever;  as  If  she  declined  to  re- 
ceive a  name  which  could  have  no  importance 
for  her;as  If  she  did  n't  care  whether  his  namewere 
Otford  or  Snooks.  This  disconcerted  him.  It 
was  a  new  experience,  and  It  was  unpleasant. 
For  the  sake  of  something  to  say  he  pointed  to 
the  seat  under  the  tree.  "Ah  —  pray  be  seated." 
Madame  saw  the  advantage  she  had  already 
gained.  She  spoke  as  she  might  have  addressed 
a  poor  beetle:  "What  you  have  to  say  can  be  of 
so  little  consequence  —  " 

Lord  Otford  flushed  angrily.  Here  was  he, 
a  great  nobleman  with  a  grievance,  and  this 
totally  insignificant  woman  was  treating  him 
like  a  child!  He  spoke  with  some  warmth.  "I 
beg  your  pardon!  What  I  have  to  say  Is  of  the 
utmost  consequence." 

"I  shall  be  surprised,"  said  Madame  —  "and 
I  am  waiting." 

Lord  Otford  was  still  fuming.  Her  manner 
was    really    most    disconcerting.      "You  —  you 

147 


POMANDER     WALK 

make  it  somewhat  difficult,  ma'am,"  he  blus- 
tered. 

Nothing  could  stir  her  calmness.  "Then  why- 
give  yourself  the  trouble.?"  she  said;  and  again 
moved  as  if  to  go. 

"Pray  wait!"  cried  he,  hastily.  All  the  fine 
outworks  of  sarcasm  and  irony  which  he  had 
elaborately  prepared  against  this  meeting  had 
vanished  before  the  icy  blast  of  her  imperturb- 
able coolness.  He  was  hot;  he  was  uncomfort- 
able. He  could  only  stammer,  "The  fact  is  — 
my  foolish  son  —  " 

Madame  held  up  a  delicate  hand  and  stopped 
him.  "Ah!"  she  said,  with  a  well-bred  rebuke 
of  his  excitement,  "I  can  spare  you  any  further 
discomfort.  Your  son  forced  his  acquaintance 
on  my  daughter  in  my  absence  a  week  ago.  Be 
assured  we  are  willing  to  overlook  his  lack  of 
manners.  The  circumstance  need  not  be  further 
alluded  to." 

Here  was  a  nice  thing!  In  those  few  words 
she  had  turned  the  tables  on  him.  Instead  of 
metaphorically  grovelling  in  the  dust  at  his  feet 
and  entreating  his  pardon,  she  had  become  the 
accuser,  and  he  now  found  himself  forced  to 
speak  on  the  defensive. 

"It  must  be  alluded  to!  I  must  explain!"  he 
cried. 

"No  explanation  or  apology  is  required,"  she 
went  on  implacably,   "since  under  no  circum- 

148 


POMANDER     WALK 

stances  shall  we  allow  the  acquaintance  to  con- 
tinue." 

Was  he  on  his  head  or  his  heels?  These  were 
practically  the  very  words  he  had  meant  to  use. 
This  was  the  shell  he  had  meant  to  hurl  into  the 
enemy's  camp,  and  here  it  was,  exploding  under 
his  own  feet! 

"But  my  son  has  pledged  his  word  to  come 
again,  and  —  " 

Again  she  interrupted  him.  "Make  yourself 
easy  on  that  score,"  she  said;  and  now  there 
was  even  a  note  of  contempt  in  her  voice.  "He 
has  broken  his  word." 

"That  was  my  doing!"  cried  Lord  Otford, 
almost  apologetically.  "I  persuaded  him  to 
wait  a  week.  I  regret  to  say  he  means  to  come 
to-day." 

"Well,"  answered  Madame,  with  the  utmost 
indifference,  "Pomander  Walk  is  public,  and 
we  cannot  prevent  him." 

"But  he  '11  see  your  daughter!" 

"I  think  not.  Unless  he  breaks  into  the 
house." 

"Upon  my  soul,  I  believe  he  '11  go  that  length!" 
What  Lord  Otford  had  intended  should  be  a 
menace,  turned  to  an  appeal.  "That  is  where  I 
ask  for  your  co-operation." 

Madame  looked  him  up  and  down  with  in- 
dignant protest.  Really,  he  might  have  been 
poor  Snooks.     "Pardon  me,"  she  said,  "not  co- 

149 


POMANDER    WALK 

operation."  She  drew  herself  up  and  her  eyes 
flashed.    "But  I  shall  defend  my  own." 

She  laid  a  peculiar  stress  on  the  word  "defend," 
which  arrested  his  attention. 

" ' Defend ' .? "  said  he,  with  amazement.  "What 
do  you  mean?" 

She  looked  him  straight  in  the  face,  and  spoke 
with  intense  feeling.  "I  mean,  that  no  member 
of  your  family  is  likely  to  cross  my  threshold." 

There  was  something  so  threatening,  so  aveng- 
ing in  her  voice,  that  he  fell  back  a  pace  and  said, 
hushed,  "You  speak  as  though  you  nursed  a 
grudge  against  my  family!" 

Madame  smiled  scornfully.  "Oh!  no  grudge 
whatever."  Then  she  added  slowly  and  very 
quietly,  "But  I  remember!" 

"Remember  what.f*"  cried  he,  more  and  more 
bewildered. 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  answer.  Then  she 
turned  to  him  and  spoke.  "Am  I  so  changed  — ■ 
Jack  Sayle.?" 

He  stared.  "Indeed,  ma'am  —  "  then  sud- 
denly he  saw  and  remembered.  He  could  only 
exclaim,  "Good  God!" 

"Are  you  still  puzzled.''"  she  asked,  with  that 
mysterious  smile  of  hers. 

"Lucy!" 

"Lucy  Pryor,"  she  assented.  She  bowed  and 
turned  away. 

Lord  Otford   was   stunned.     "No  —  no,"   he 

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IIk    STARIKI)    Ol-F    LIKK    AN    ALARM    CLOCK 

See  page  171 


POMANDER  WALK 

stammered.  "Stop!  —  this  alters  the  case 
entirely!" 

She  turned  on  him  with  raised  eyebrows. 
"How?" 

He  was  entirely  at  a  loss.  He  had  spoken  on 
the  spur  of  the  moment.  All  the  past  had  sud- 
denly risen  up  before  him,  all  his  youth  had  come 
flooding  back.  The  birds  sang  in  the  old  vicarage 
garden;  his  experiences,  his  worldly  honours, 
sank  from  him,  and  he  was  a  lad  again,  deeply  in 
love;  and  here  stood  his  first  sweetheart  —  his 
only  sweetheart  —  the  woman  who  meant  youth 
and  spring-time  and  all  the  ideals  of  boyhood. 
He  bowed  his  head.  "I  —  I  don't  know.  I  am 
stunned!  —  After  all  these  years!" 

She  was  merciless.  Also  she  was  on  her  guard. 
She  must  not  let  herself  be  defeated  by  senti- 
mentality. As  she  looked  at  him  and  saw  him 
standing  humbled  before  her,  a  still  small  voice 
in  her  heart  cried  out  In  pity.  That  would  never 
do.  He  had  blighted  her  youth;  his  son  had 
hurt  Marjolaine.  She  must  remember.  She 
must  be  firm.  So  she  silenced  the  appealing 
voice  and  spoke  with  an  admirable  assumption 
of  lightness. 

"Why,  what  does  it  all  amount  to?  After  all 
these  years  Lord  Otford  meets  Madame  Laches- 
nais.  These  are  not  the  Jack  Sayle  and  the  Lucy 
Pryor  who  loved,  years  ago.  He  does  not  meet 
a   broken-hearted   woman    pining    for    her    lost 


POMANDER  WALK 

girlhood,  but,"  she  drew  herself  up  and  her 
voice  grew  firmer,  "but  one  who  has  been  a 
happy  wife,  and  a  happy  mother  —  and  a  mother 
who  will  defend  her  daughter's  happiness." 
Then  the  mockery  returned,  intensified.  "So 
there  is  no  cause  for  such  a  tragic  countenance, 
my  lord!" 

Otford  winced.  He  was  humbled;  he  was 
angry  with  himself,  and  angry  with  her. 
"Madam,"  said  he,  "I  am  well  rebuked.  I 
wish  you  a  very  good  day!"  He  made  her  a 
very  low  bow,  and  turned  on  his  heel.  Inwardly 
he  was  raging,  and  when,  at  the  corner  of  the 
Walk,  he  ran  right  into  the  Eyesore  who  was 
innocently  returning  to  his  fishing,  that  unfor- 
tunate creature  received  the  full  force  of  his 
anger  in  a  muttered  but  none  the  less  hearty 
curse. 

Madame  stood  where  he  had  left  her.  Now 
that  he  was  gone,  she  realised  how  the  meeting 
had  shaken  her.  Twenty  years,  and  more,  and 
he  was  scarcely  changed!  The  same  lithe  figure; 
the  same  handsome  face,  with  the  bold  eyes; 
the  same  appeal  which  had  drawn  her  heart  to 
him  in  the  old  days.  The  long  Interval  which 
had  elapsed,  with  all  Its  varied  adventures;  her 
marriage,  the  Revolution,  her  husband's  death, 
seemed  merely  an  episode.  She  and  Jack  had 
parted  yesterday,  so  It  seemed,  and  to-day  they 
had  met  again.     She  was  dismayed  at  realising 

152 


POMANDER  WALK 

the  sway  he  still  held.  The  same  sway  as  ever. 
It  took  the  strength  out  of  her  limbs.  She  leaned 
against  the  summer-house  in  distress.  This 
was  unbearable.  She  must  fight.  The  old  pain 
must  not  be  allowed  to  seize  her  in  its  grip.  Jack 
Sayle  was  dead,  buried  and  forgotten,  and  she 
would  not  let  him  come  to  life  again. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Poskett  had  opened  her  up- 
stairs window  and  was  leaning  out.  The  sky 
was  very  threatening;  there  was  going  to  be  a 
thunder-storm;  and  there  crouched  that  fool- 
ish cat  of  hers,  oblivious  of  the  weather,  watch- 
ing the  Eyesore.  "Sempronius!"  she  called. 
"Puss!    Puss!    Puss!" 

But  Sempronius  had  more  urgent  business 
than  attending  to  his  mistress's  voice.  A  miracle 
had  happened:  the  Eyesore  had  caught  a  fish! 
Sempronius  looked  on  with  eager  interest  as  the 
Eyesore  disengaged  his  prey  from  the  hook  and 
laid  it  on  the  grass.  Yes;  he  would  go  in,  said 
Sempronius  to  himself,  making  sure  that  the 
downstairs  window  of  his  mistress's  house  was 
open;  he  would  go  in  presently,  when  he  had 
safely  stalked  that  fish.    Not  before. 

The  Admiral  also  had  seen  the  skies  darken. 
It  was  time  to  take  in  the  thrush.  So  he  leant 
out  of  his  upstairs  window  to  unhook  the  osier 
cage.  His  window  and  Mrs.  Poskett's  were  so 
close  together  that  —  well  —  the  Admiral  and 
the  widow  could,  at  a  pinch,  have  kissed  if  they 

153 


POMANDER     WALK 

had  been  so  minded.  But  nothing  was  further 
from  the  Admiral's  thoughts. 

"Sempronius!"  screamed  Mrs.  Poskett. 

"Ah!"  chuckled  the  Admiral,  "it's  no  use 
calling  him,  ma'am.  He  's  got  his  eye  on  the 
fish!" 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  the  Eyesore's  caught 
one!"  cried  Mrs.  Poskett. 

The  Admiral  laughed  as  he  looked  at  the  Eye- 
sore. Laughed  more  than  the  occasion  seemed 
to  justify.  "Ay,  ay!  he's  wonderfully  patient 
and  persistent!" 

The  widow's  face,  as  he  leant  out  to  see  the 
fish,  was  very  near  the  Admiral's. 

"Astonishing  what  patience  and  persistence  '11 
do,  Admiral,"  said  she,  coquettishly.  She  with- 
drew quickly  and  closed  her  window. 

The  Admiral  was  puzzled.  What  did  she  mean  ? 
But  he  shook  off  his  forebodings.  He  turned  to 
where  the  Eyesore,  buried  more  than  usual  in 
his  horrible  old  hat,  was  putting  on  new  bait, 
and  gave  a  low  whistle.  The  Eyesore  signalled 
to  him  to  be  quiet  and  at  that  moment  he  be- 
came aware  of  Madame,  who  was  moving  away 
from  the  Gazebo.  "Gobblessmysoul!  Madame!" 
he  muttered  to  himself  with  inexplicable  con- 
fusion, and  hastily  withdrew  out  of  sight  with 
his  thrush. 

Miss  Barbara  Pennymint  came  hopping  down 
her  steps,  followed  by  Marjolaine.    Madame  had 

154 


POMANDER     WALK 

recovered  her  self-possession.  "Ah!"  she  cried, 
seeing  Marjolaine,  *'I  was  a  little  alarmed  about 
you.    Did  you  not  hear  me  call?" 

"No,  Maman  cherie." 

Madame  turned  to  Barbara.  "Don't  let  her 
stay  out  if  it  rains."  And  with  a  pleasant  nod 
to  the  two  girls  she  moved  into  her  house.  She 
had  need  to  be  alone. 

Marjolaine  and  Barbara  locked  their  arms 
round  each  others'  waists  and  came  across  the 
lawn. 

Barbara  turned  up  her  pretty  nose.  "The 
Eyesore  looks  more  revolting  than  ever!" 

"Dreadful,"  assented  Marjolaine,  with  a 
shudder.  At  this  instant  the  Eyesore  caught 
another  fish!  and  Marjolaine  gave  a  cry  of  sur- 
prise.   Sempronius  sat  and  watched. 

"What's  he  doing  now.'"'  asked  Barbara,  in 
a  whisper. 

Marjolaine  looked.  Then  she  covered  Bar- 
bara's eyes  with  her  hand.  "Don't  look!"  and 
in  a  tragic  whisper,  "He  's  putting  on  a  worm!" 

"Oh!"  cried  Barbara,  with  a  shiver  of  disgust. 
They  came  down  to  the  elm. 

"It  was  impossible,"  said  Marjolaine,  "to 
talk  in  Ruth's  presence,  with  Doctor  Johnson 
screaming  in  the  next  room." 

"Dearest,"  answered  Barbara  confidentially, 
"shall  I  confess  that  sometimes  that  bird  —  " 
she  broke  off  —  "but  no!  it  were  disloyal.    On\y^ 

155 


POMANDER  WALK 

if  Charles  had  given  me  a  lock  of  his  hair,  per- 
haps it  would  have  made  less  noise.  Yet,  now 
I  think  of  it,  that  is  a  selfish  wish,  for  he  had  been 
scalped." 

"How  dreadful!"  cried  Marjolaine.  But  she 
was  full  of  her  great  idea,  and  went  on  at  once. 
"Barbara,  were  you  very  much  in  love.^" 

Barbara's  face  grew  very  serious.  "Dearest," 
she  said  reproachfully,  "is  that  quite  a  delicate 
question?" 

"Well,"  said  Marjolaine,  "I  mean,  are  you 
still  as  much  in  love  as  ever?" 

Barbara  avoided  her  eyes.  But  she  spoke 
with  almost  exaggerated  feeling.  "Dearest! 
Do  you  think  love  can  change?" 

Marjolaine  thought  a  moment.  I  suppose 
she  was  consulting  her  own  heart.  Then  she 
spoke  very  firmly.     "No!     I  don't  think  so!" 

"And  do  I  not  hear  the  sound  of  my  darling's 
voice  every  time  Doctor  Johnson  yells?  Is  not 
that  enough  to  keep  the  flame  of  love  alive  even 
in  the  ashes  of  a  heart  however  dead?  Oh!  if 
only  that  innocent  fowl  had  been  present  when 
Charles  used  different  language!" 

'But  did  he?"  asked  Marjolaine  innocently. 
I    sometimes    wonder,"    answered    Barbara, 
deep  in  thought. 

Marjolaine  felt  she  had  said  a  tactless  thing. 
She  must  try  to  soften  it.  "Perhaps  the  loss  of 
his  hair  —  "  she  began. 

156 


POMANDER  WALK 


(( 


Yes,"  assented  Barbara.  "But  he  concealed 
the  honourable  scar  under  a  lovely  wig."  She 
turned  her  eyes  fondly  to  Basil's  window  from 
which  the  familiar  passage  from  the  slow  move- 
ment of  the  Kreutzer  Sonata  came  throbbing. 
"And  —  oh,  dearest!  —  can  any  physical  in- 
firmity affect  true  love.''"  she  cried  rapturously. 

At  last  she  was  coming  to  the  point  Marjolaine 
had  been  insidiously  leading  up  to.  Marjolaine 
watched  her  closely.    "I  suppose  not." 

"I  am  quite  sure  it  cannot!"  cried  Barbara 
with  a  burst  of  enthusiasm. 

Marjolaine  took  both  Barbara's  hands  in  hers 
and  forced  her  to  face  her.  She  spoke  very  ear- 
nestly.   "Barbara,  why  are  you  quite  sure.'"' 

Barbara    instantly    fell    into    a    pretty    state 
of    confusion.    "Dearest!  —  how  searching  you 
are! 

"Tell  me!"  insisted  Marjolaine,  "why  are  you 
quite  sure.?" 

Barbara  looked  this  way  and  that;  toyed 
with  the  lace  on  Marjolaine's  sleeve;  and  said 
quite  irrelevantly,  "Dearest  —  did  your  mother 
match  those  lovely  silks.?" 

Marjolaine  was  not  to  be  put  off.  "  Mr.  Basil 
plays  the  violin  beautifully,"  she  said. 

Barbara  fluttered  exactly  like  a  sparrow 
taking  a  sand-bath.  She  hopped  all  round  Mar- 
jolaine. "Oh,  dearest!"  she  chirped.  "Oh,  you 
wicked  dearest!    You  have  guessed  my  secret!" 

157 


POMANDER  WALK 

Then,  if  I  may  put  it  that  way,  she  perched  on 
Marjolaine's  finger  and  pecked  her  on  each 
cheek. 

"I  was  sure  before  I  guessed!  "  laughed  Mar- 
jolaine. 

The  Eyesore  caught  another  fish;  and,  what 
was  equally  astonishing,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  moved  from  his  accustomed  place 
and  came  nearer  the  girls. 

Barbara  put  on  as  solemn  a  face  as  she  could 
contrive.  "Promise  you  will  never  tell  a  living 
soul?" 

"Look!"  cried  Marjolaine,  "the  Eyesore's 
caught  another  fish!  " 

"Poor  darling!"  exclaimed  Barbara. 

Marjolaine  gave  her  a  horrified  look.  "You 
are  not  in  love  with  the  Eyesore,  too!" 

"I  meant  the  fish!"  explained  Barbara,  "to 
be  drawn  out  of  the  watery  element." 

"Ah,"  said  Marjolaine,  wisely,  "that  comes 
of  a  fondness  for  worms." 

"Worms!"  repeated  Barbara,  lugubriously. 
"Ah,  worms!  —  I  shall  let  the  worm  i'  the  bud 
feed  on  my  damaged  cheek." 

The  two  were  now  sitting  on  the  bench  under 
the  elm,  and  twittering  together  like  little  love- 
birds.    The  Eyesore  came  nearer. 

Barbara,"    said   Marjolaine,    with   meaning, 
suppose    Mr.   Basil's   cheek    is   being  fed    on, 
too?" 

158 


« 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Dearest,  that  is  impossible,"  said  Barbara. 

Marjolaine  sat  nearer  and  spoke  more  con- 
fidentially.    "Suppose  I  know  it  is.? " 

Barbara  pushed  her  away  and  looked  at  her. 
"You  wonderful  child!"  Then  she  added, 
shortly,  "Then  why  does  n't  he  speak. !* " 

"Suppose  he  's  too  shy.?" 

Barbara  appealed  to  the  universe.  "Oh! 
are  n't  men  silly.?"  —  She  luxuriated  in  her  sense 
of  tragedy.     "Then  we  must  look  and  long." 

Marjolaine  breathed  into  her  ear,  "But  sup- 
pose a   third  person  spoke!" 

"You!"   exclaimed  Barbara,  with  delight. 

"No!"  said  Marjolaine,  rather  shocked. 
"That  would  not  do  at  all.  I  could  n't."  The 
Eyesore  was  very  near  them.  Marjolaine  saw 
him.  "Hush!"  she  whispered,  and  drew  Bar- 
bara  away.     "Hush!     The   Eyesore!" 

Barbara  looked  from  her  to  the  Eyesore  and 
back  again  with  bewilderment.  "You  don't 
mean  he  's  to  be  Cupid's  messenger!  " 

Marjolaine  laughed.  "No,  no.  Listen."  She 
sank  her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper.  In 
spite  of  her  own  sorrow  she  was  enjoying  her- 
self immensely.  "Listen,  and  try  not  to  scream." 
Barbara  quivered  with  excitement.  Marjolaine 
went  on,  "Doctor  Johnson  talks,  does  n't  he.?" 

Barbara  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  "Doc- 
tor  John  — .?  " 

"And  he  learns  easily.?" 

159 


POMANDER     WALK 

"But  what—  ?" 

"Let  Basil  hear  it  from  him!"  said  Marjo- 
laine,  triumphantly. 

"Hear  what?  "  almost  screamed  Barbara. 

Marjolaine  laughingly  took  her  by  the  shoul- 
ders and  shook  her.  "Oh,  you  little  goose!" 
she  cried.  Then  she  added,  very  deliberately  and 
clearly,  "Teach  the  parrot  to  say  —  'Barbara 
loves  you ! '  " 

Barbara  did,  I  assure  you,  leap  into  the  air, 
and  Marjolaine  had  her  hand  over  her  mouth 
only  just  in  time  to  stifle  a  scream  which  would 
have  brought  the  entire  Walk  to  its  doors  and 
windows. 

But  Barbara  was  seized  with  instant  remorse. 

She  put  Marjolaine  away  from  her  with  a 
gesture  which  would  have  done  credit  to  Mrs. 
Siddons.  She  spoke  in  a  tone  of  mingled  hero- 
ism and  reproach:  "Charles's  only  gift,  turned 
to  such  uses!    Oh,  Marjory!" 

Marjolaine  was  quite  unabashed.  "Would  n't 
Charles  be  pleased  to  know  his  gift  had  been 
the  means  of  making  you  happy.?" 

"From  what  I  can  remember  of  him,  I  should 
say  decidedly  not,"  said  Barbara,  rather  snap- 
pishly. 

The  Eyesore  was  now  close  to  the  Gazebo. 

"Look!"  cried  Marjolaine.  "The  Eyesore's 
invading  the  whole  Walk!  " 

But  little  Barbara  cared.    Also  her  momentary 

1 60 


POMANDER  WALK 

remorse  had  entirely  vanished.  If  she  had  been 
on  a  tree  she  would  have  hopped  from  branch 
to  branch.  As  it  was  she  hopped  all  across  the 
lawn,  clapping  her  hands  and  twittering.  "Oh! 
I  can't  bother  about  him!  "  she  said.  "Let  him 
invade!  Oh!  it's  such  a  splendid  idea!  Oh! 
you  're  such  a  clever  girl!  Oh!  my  goodness, 
what  shall  I  do.?" 

Marjolaine  was  anxious  on  the  Eyesore's 
account.  Were  the  Admiral  to  see  him,  there 
would  be  a  terrible  outburst  of  anger.  "I'll 
speak  to  him,"  she  said,  summoning  all  her 
courage,  "I  '11  save  him  from  Sir  Peter's  wrath!" 

"No!  no!  "  cried  Barbara;  "stick  to  business! 
Tell  me  more  about  the  bird!" 

"Stand  by  me!"  entreated  Marjolaine.  "Hold 
my  hand!  " 

"I  daren't!  I'm  frightened!"  cried  Bar- 
bara, "and  —  and  —  and  I  want  to  begin 
teaching  the  bird!" 

"Treacherous  Barbara!"  cried  Marjolaine. 
But  before  the  words  were  out  of  her  mouth 
Barbara  had  scuttled  into  the  house  and  slammed 
the  door. 

And  before  Marjolaine  had  recovered  from 
that  shock  the  Eyesore  had  hurled  his  hat  and 
smock  into  the  Gazebo,  and  she  was  in  Jack's 
arms. 


i6i 


CHAPTER   X 

IN    WHICH    THE 
MYSTERIOUS 

LADY 

REAPPEARS 

AND    HELPS 

JACK   TO 

VANISH 

MARJOLAINE  was  bewildered,  over- 
joyed, indignant,  and  too  breathless 
even  to  cry  out.  Jack  swept  her  off 
her  feet.  "Come  into  the  Gazebo!"  he  cried, 
and  before  she  could  remember  where  she  was, 
she  was  on  the  seat  in  the  summer-house  and 
Jack  had  hold  of  both  her  hands  and  was  saying 
impetuously,  "Marjory,  I  love  you!" 

She  sank  into  his  arms,  utterly  overwhelmed. 
It  was  as  if  a  cyclone  had  whirled  her  away. 
"I  love  you,  I  love  you,  little  Marjory,"  he  was 
murmuring  into  her  ear.  *'I  loved  you  the  first 
moment  I  saw  you  under  the  elm!" 

Under  the  elm!  Her  memory  came  rushing 
back.  She  broke  away  from  him  and  her  eyes 
flashed    indignantly.      "How    dare   you!"    she 

162  ■ 


POMANDER     WALK 

cried.  "Oh!  how  dare  you!  I  didn't  know 
what  I  was  doing.  Go  away!  You  broke  your 
word!    You  never  came!" 

"I  come  now!"  he  answered,  with  a  fine  air 
of  injured  innocence. 

"In  a  horrible  disguise!"  said  she,  looking 
with  disgust  at  the  Eyesore's  hat  and  smock 
lying  disconsolately  where  Jack  had  thrown 
them,  "and  too  late!"  She  broke  into  sobs. 
"I  have  promised  not  to  love  you!" 
'Whom  have  you  promised.^" 
•My  dear,  dear  Mother." 

She  had  stood  up  and  was  trying  to  look  like 
a  dutiful  daughter.  But  he  made  that  very 
difficult  by  seizing  her  hand  and  drawing  her 
down  to  his  side  again. 

'Don't  you   love   me.^"   said   he. 
If  I  did,  I  've  promised  not  to!"  she  replied 
firmly. 

"What  's  the  use  of  that,  if  you  do.?"  Jack 
did  n't  know  it,  but  he  had  put  a  question  which 
undermined  all  first  principles. 

"/  keep  my  word!"  she  replied,  with  great 
dignity.  It  was  no  answer  to  his  question,  but 
it  saved  her  for  the  moment.  The  implied  re- 
proach turned  his  position  and  forced  him  to  be 
on  the  defensive. 

"  So  do  I ! "  he  said,  quite  boldly  and  unabashed : 
so  unabashed  that  she  could  only  stare  at  him 
in  amazement  and  cry  "Oh!" 

163 


(I  ■ 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Differently,"  he  explained.  "I  told  my 
father;  and  I  promised  I  'd  stay  away  a  week, 
to  make  sure.  I  've  made  sure,  and  I  Ve  come. 
Is  n't  that  keeping  my  word?  " 

Marjolaine  was  shaken,  and  he  had  stated 
his  case  so  cunningly  that  she  could  not,  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  put  her  finger  on  the  weak 
point  —  the  truth  being,  that  she  did  not  want 
to.    "It  seems  so,  when  you  tell  it,  but  —  " 

"Do  they  want  you  to  marry  somebody 
else.'"'  said  he. 

"No." 

"Well,  they  want  me  to!"  and  he  added  with 
modest  but  conscious  virtue,  "but  I  refused." 

"That 's  it!"  cried  Marjolaine,  remembering 
all  the  Admiral  had  innocently  let  drop.  "  You  're 
a  great  man;  by-and-by  you  '11  live  in  marble 
halls;  and  you  never  said  a  word  about  it!  " 

"Hang  it  all!"  cried  Jack,  protesting  with 
all  his  might,  "I  told  you  my  name!  I  can't 
go  about  shouting  I  'm  a  lord's  son!  " 

But  Marjolaine  had  not  done.  "And  you  *re 
going  to  marry  a  great  lady  who  owns  half  a 
county  and  goes  about  doing  good.  The  Hon — 
Hon — "  what  a  nuisance  it  was  that  she 
could  not  keep  her  sobs  down!  —  "the  Honour- 
able Caroline  Thring!  —  Oh,  does  n't  it  sound 
horrid!" 

"I  'm  not  going  to  marry  her!"  Jack  almost 
shouted.     "And  she  docs  n't  want  to  marry  me; 

164 


POMANDER  WALK 

and  there  's  only  one  girl  in  the  world  for  me, 
and  that 's  you  —  you  —  you ! " 

He  tried  to  draw  her  down  again,  but  she  re- 
sisted. CaroUne  Thring  was  not  the  only  ob- 
stacle. "Jack,"  she  said,  with  tragic  solemnity, 
*'I  'm  the  one  girl  in  the  world  you  can  never 
marry! 

Her  manner  was  so  intense,  that  even  Jack 
was,  for  the  moment,  awed.  "You  speak  as 
if  you  meant  it!"  he  said,  staring  at  her  in 
astonishment. 

"I  do!"  Her  manner  grew  more  and  more 
solemn.  She  looked  like  the  Tragic  Muse,  and 
I  am  not  sure  she  did  not  rather  enjoy  the  im- 
pression she  was  creating.  Her  voice  rang  deep 
and  hollow.     "We  are  fated  to  part." 

"Why  on  earth — .''"  cried  Jack,  almost 
frightened. 

"It  is  a  terrible  secret,"  she  answered.  Then 
she  suddenly  sat  down  beside  him.  "Sit  close! 
Oh,  closer!"  Now  she  was  a  child  again,  rev- 
elling in  a  good  story.  "Listen.  Your  father 
loved  my  mother  when  they  were  both  very 
young  —  " 

"No!"  cried  Jack. 

"  'M.  And  he  went  on  loving  her  for  years 
and  years  and  years!  And  then  he  left  her  for 
ever,  just  as  you  left  me  last  Saturday;  and  went 
and  married  the  Honourable  Caroline  Thring." 

"What!"  cried  Jack,  utterly  bewildered. 

165 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Oh,  well  —  same  thing  —  some  other  great 
lady." 

Jack  gave  a  low  whistle. 

"And  Maman's  never  forgotten  it,  just  as  I 
never  should.  And  that 's  why  she  fainted  when 
she  heard  your  name." 

Jack  whistled  again.  Then  a  new  idea  oc- 
curred to  him.  "That  accounts  for  my  father's 
temper  just  now." 

Marjolaine  was  puzzled.  "Just  now.'*"  she 
asked. 

"When  I  landed,  he  was  here  with  your 
mother." 

"Oh!"  cried  Marjolaine,  astonished  and 
frightened. 

"Sir  Peter  told  me,"  Jack  went  on.  "It  was 
a  close  shave.  I  had  just  time  to  borrow  the 
fisherman's  coat  and  hat.  When  my  father 
came  away  he  was  perfectly  furious.  He  did  n't 
know  me,  but  he  swore  at  me  horribly." 

Marjolaine  nodded  wisely.  "You  see!  Ma- 
man  had  been  telling  him  exactly  what  she 
thought  about  him.  Oh,  Jack,  they  are  enemies 
and  we  must  part  forever."  She  stood  up  and 
resumed  her  finest  tradegy-queen  manner.  "It 
is  what  they  call  a  blood-feud!" 

Jack  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Then  we  must 
marry  to  wipe  it  out!"  he  cried.  "Marjory, 
we  must  fly!" 

"Fly—.?" 

1 66 


POMANDER  WALK 


((' 


Fly!  —  run  away!  —  elope!" 

"Leave  Maman  — !"  cried  Marjolaine,  very 
properly  shocked.     "I  could  n't  do  it!" 

"You  'd  have  to  if  we  were  married,"  he 
argued. 

"Afterwards,  perhaps,"  answered  the  ever- 
ready  Marjolaine,  "but  not  before." 

Jack  thought  he  would  clinch  the  matter. 
"We'll  be  married  at  once.  Then  it'll  be 
afterwards." 

"No,  no,  no!!"  cried  Marjory.  "It's  no 
use."  She  turned  to  him  with  pretty  appeal. 
"Don't  ask  me,  will  you.^"  Then  she  went  on 
in  a  tone  of  middle-aged  common-sense:  "Be- 
sides, we  can't  be  married  at  once.  In  your 
stupid  England,  the  parson  has  to  ask  the  con- 
gregation three  times  whether  they  have  any 
objection.  As  if  they  could  n't  make  up  their 
minds  the  first  time!  and  as  if  it  was  any  of 
their  business  at  all!" 

"Banns — !  Hang!"  said  Jack,  scratching 
his  head.  That  helped  him.  "I  know!"  he 
cried,  "Licence!" 

"Don't  ask  me!"  She  caressed  his  coat- 
collar  coaxingly.  "You  won't  ask  me,  will  you.'' 
What  is  a  licence.'*" 

"Well,"  said  Jack,  with  an  air  of  profound  know- 
ledge and  experience,  "You  go  to  a  Bishop,  and  he 
gives  you  a  document,  and  then  you  go  to  the 
nearest  church  —  and  —  and  —  there  you  are!" 

167 


POMANDER     WALK 

*'I  don't  believe  you  're  there  at  all,"  she 
said,  pouting.  She  turned  away  in  despair. 
"Oh,  it 's  no  use!  "  But  she  turned  back  with 
new  hope.      '*Do   you    know   any   Bishops.^" 

"Not  one,"  said  Jack,  ruefully. 

Her  head  rested  on  his  shoulder,  and  made  a 
prop  for  his.  "It's  discouraging!"  they  both 
sighed,  sinking  on  the  seat  in  the  Gazebo,  and 
looking  as  woe-begone  as  the  Babes  in  the 
Wood. 

Down  came  the  rain,  pattering  on  the  leaves 
of  the  elm.  The  Eyesore  had  come  back, 
hatless  and  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  had  exe- 
cuted a  brief  dance  of  delight  over  the  three 
fish  Jack  had  caught  for  him.  He  had  only 
got  back  just  in  time  to  avert  disaster,  for  Sem- 
pronius,  seeing  the  Walk  deserted,  had  been  on 
the  very  point  of  raiding  the  fish.  The  Eyesore 
sat  on  his  box  and  resumed  his  melancholy  sport, 
resigned  to  the  loss  of  his  outer  garment,  ob- 
livious of  the  rain,  but  keeping  a  wary  eye  on 
the  cat. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Sternroyd  emerged 
from  his  house.  I  say  emerged,  because  it  was 
a  slow  and  difficult  manoeuvre.  He  was  loaded 
as  usual.  His  green  umbrella  occupied  his  right 
arm,  while  his  left  encircled  a  number  of  ancient 
tomes;  so  he  had  to  come  through  his  door 
sideways  and  down  his  steps  backwards,  and 
the    gate    presented    a    new    and    complicated 

1 68 


POMANDER    WALK 

problem.  Then  he  discovered  it  was  raining, 
and,  of  course,  he  tried  to  open  his  umbrella 
while  he  was  still  under  the  arch  of  his  gate. 
At  the  best  of  times  the  opening  of  that  um- 
brella was  a  matter  of  diplomacy  and  patience. 
You  did  not  open  it  just  when  you  wanted  to, 
but  only  when  it  was  willing.  In  a  wind  it  would 
open  itself  and  turn  itself  inside  out;  but  in  a 
shower  it  needed  coaxing.  Its  ribs  all  went  in 
different  directions  and  it  required  the  greatest 
skill  to  induce  anything  approaching  unanimity. 
The  chances  were  that  by  the  time  you  had  got 
the  umbrella  open,  the  shower  had  ceased  and 
the  sun  was  shining;  and  as  it  was  just  as  diffi- 
cult to  close  it,  you  probably  gave  up,  and 
resigned  yourself  to  looking  eccentric. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  got  inextricably  mixed 
up  with  his  books,  his  half-open  umbrella,  and 
the  gate.  He  felt  he  must  use  strong  language. 
"Tut,  tut!"  said  he. 

Marjolaine  heard  him.  "Hush!  "  she  whis- 
pered, warningly. 

"Why?"  asked  Jack. 

She  peeped  round  the  edge  of  the  Gazebo. 
"The  Reverend  Doctor  Sternroyd  coming  out 
of  his  gate!  " 

"A  parson?"  Jack  almost  shouted. 

"Yes." 

"By  George!"  exclaimed  Jack;  and  while 
she  was  gasping,  "What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

169 


POMANDER     WALK 

he  had  rushed  across  the  lawn  and  slapped  the 
Doctor  on  the  back. 

"Dear  me!"  cried  the  startled  Doctor,  as  his 
books  slid  from  under  his  arm  and  the  umbrella 
opened  with  a  report  like  a  gun's.  "Dear  me! 
Tut,  tut!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Doctor,"  Jack  apolo- 
gised, picking  up  the  books  and  helping  the 
parson  through  the  gate.  Then  he  seized  him  hy 
the  sleeve  and  dragged  him  bewildered  and  pro- 
testing to  the  Gazebo. 

"Sempronius!  Sempronius!"  cried  Mrs.  Pos- 
kett,  appearing  at  her  window.  "Come  in,  you 
bad  cat,  you  '11  get  wet  through!" 

But  Sempronius  was  deeply  engrossed,  and 
Mrs.  Poskett  closed  her  window  in  despair. 

Meanwhile  Jack  had  forced  the  outraged 
Doctor  down  on  to  the  seat,  Marjolaine  had 
relieved  him  of  the  umbrella,  and  Jack  had 
tossed  his  books  into  a  corner. 

"Sit  down.  Doctor,"  said  Jack,  "here,  be- 
tween us." 

"But,  my  dear  young  friends  — "  began  the 
Doctor,  protestingly. 

"You'd  get  your  feet  wet,  Sir,  and  catch 
cold.     My  name 's  Jack  Sayle." 

Marjolaine  interrupted  him.  "His  name  is 
the  Honourable  John  Sayle,"  she  explained  with 
great  importance,  "and  he's  the  only  son  of 
Lord  Otford." 

170 


He  seized  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  dragged  him,  bewildered 

AND    PROTESTING,    TO   THE   GaZEBO 


POMANDER     WALK 

She  had  touched  a  spring.  If  there  was  one 
thing  the  Doctor  was  more  familiar  with  than 
another,  it  was  heraldry.  He  started  off  like 
an  alarm  clock,  and  all  the  exclamations  and  ges- 
ticulations of  the  impatient  lovers  were  incapable 
of  stopping  him. 

"Otford:  or,  on  a  fesse  azure  between  in  chief, 
a  sinister  arm  embowed  and  couped  at  the 
shoulder  fessewise  vested  of  the  second,  holding 
in  the  hand  proper  a  martel  gules,  and  in  base  a 
cerf  regardant  passant  vert,  three  martlets  of 
the  first.  Crest:  out  of  a  crest-coronet  a  blasted 
oak  —  " 

"Oh!"  cried  Marjory,  stopping  her  ears. 

"  —  motto:   Sayle  and  Return." 

"Doctor!  "  shouted  Jack,  shaking  him,  "when 
you  've  quite  done,  we  want  to  get  married;  and 
you  Ve  got  to  get  a  licence!" 

The  boy  and  girl  were  leaning  excitedly 
across  him.  They  spoke  alternately  and  breath- 
lessly. 

"Because,"  said  Marjolaine,  "we're  in  a 
dreadful  hurry  and  Maman  won't  hear  of  it  —  " 

"And  my  father  wants  me  to  marry  Caroline 
Thring,  which  is  wicked  —  " 

"And  of  course  I'll  never  do  it,  and  it's  no 
use  asking  me,  but  —  " 

"We're  going  to  be  married  anyhow,  and  if 
you  don't  help  we  shall  run  away  — ■  " 

'And  you  would  n't  like  to  be  the  cause  of 

171 


<( 


POMANDER  WALK 

our  doing  that,  would  you?"     She  had  slipped 
to  her  knees. 

"And  we  love  each  other  —  "  Jack  also  was 
on  his  knees,  facing  her. 

"Very,  very  dearly!"  they  both  concluded. 
And  to  the  horror  of  the  learned  Doctor,  their 
lips  met. 

He  rose,  indignant.  "I  am  deeply  shocked. 
Profoundly  surprised.  I  shall  make  a  point  of 
informing  Madame  Lachesnais  and  his  lord- 
ship." 

Jack  leapt  to  his  feet.  "Oh,  I  say,  you  can't, 
you  know!"  he  protested,  "because  we  took  you 
into  our  confidence!" 

The  antiquary  was  as  nearly  angry  as  he  had 
ever  been  In  his  life.  "I  did  not  ask  for  your 
confidence!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Well  —  you've  got  it!"  said  Jack,  conclu- 
sively. 

Marjolaine  laid  her  hand  on  the  Doctor's  arm 
and  looked  up  at  him  with  great  pathetic  eyes  — 
the  stricken  deer.  "And,  Doctor,  dear  —  think 
of  when  you  were  young!" 

"Eh.?"  said  the  Doctor,  startled.  "How  did 
you  know?  —  And  if  I  did  run  away  with  my 
blessed  Araminta  —  " 

'Ah!  —  there,  you  see!"  cried  Jack,  delighted. 
I  had  every  excuse,"  protested  the  Doctor. 
"My  blessed  Araminta  was  deeply  interested  in 

flint  arrowheads." 

172 


POMANDER  WALK 


tc 


'And  I  'm  sure  you  were  very,  very  happy," 
said  Marjolaine,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

The  Doctor  looked  at  her.  The  Doctor  dug 
his  snuff-box  out  of  a  remote  waistcoat-pocket. 
The  Doctor  took  snuff.  The  Doctor  drew  out  a 
great,  brown  handkerchief.  The  Doctor  blew 
his  nose.  His  snuff  was  very  strong,  and  had 
made  his  eyes  water.  Finally  he  said,  "Ah, 
my  child,  she  has  been  dead  thirty  years!" 

"Dear  Doctor  Sternroyd!"  murmured  Mar- 
jolaine. 

He  pulled  himself  together.  "But  this  is  so 
harebrained!  A  special  licence  is  not  so  easily 
had.  His  Grace,  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury—" 

"Oh,  my  goodness!  an  ^rc/ibishopl"  —  cried 
Marjolaine,  deeply  impressed. 

"The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  requires  ex- 
cellent reasons." 

"I've  told  you,"  cried  Jack  impatiently,  "we 
love  each  other! " 

The  antiquary  could  not  help  smiling.  "I 
fear  that  would  hardly  satisfy  his  Grace!" 

"Wicked  old  gentleman!"  pouted  Marjolaine. 

"We'll  find  a  reason,"  said  Jack,  confidently; 
and  after  a  moment's  thought:  "Here  you  are! 
My  leave  's  up  in  a  month :  only  just  time  for  the 
honeymoon!" 

"H'm!"  said  the  Antiquary.  "Even  that 
does   not  seem  to  me  sufficiently  convincing." 

173 


POMANDER     WALK 

He  had  risen,  and  now  turned  and  looked  at 
them  as  they  sat  watching  him  eagerly  and  hope- 
fully. They  looked  so  charming,  so  young,  so 
innocent,  and  so  deeply  in  love  with  each  other, 
that  the  Doctor  was  touched.  For  years  he 
had  been  buried  in  his  musty  old  books,  and 
suddenly  he  was  confronted  with  life,  with  youth 
starting  out  on  its  career.  It  would  be  good  to 
make  these  children  happy. 

"I  have  an  idea,"  he  said,  with  a  humorous 
twinkle.  "The  Archbishop,  who  is  a  very  good 
friend  of  mine,  is  forming  a  collection  of  anti- 
quities. Now  —  "  he  searched  in  all  his  pockets 
—  "I  found  a  rare  Elizabethan  tobacco-pipe 
here  the  other  day."  He  produced  it  and  pol- 
ished it  carefully  on  his  sleeve.  Marjolaine,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief, 
and  was  attacked  by  a  fit  of  coughing  which 
shook  her  from  head  to  foot.  "Perhaps,"  con- 
tinued the  Doctor,  eyeing  the  pipe  with  fond 
regret,  "perhaps  if  I  were  to  offer  that  to  his 
Grace,  it  might  oil  the  wheels."  He  sighed  deeply. 
"Yes!  —  It  will  be  a  wrench,  but  I  '11  take  it  to 
Lambeth  to-morrow  —  Ah,  no!  To-morrow 
is  Sunday!" 

"Dash  it!"  cried  Jack,  petulantly.  "What  a 
way  Sunday  has  of  coming  in  the  wrong  part  of 
the  week!" 

"Hush!"  said  Doctor  Stcrnroyd,  reprovingly, 
"Monday,  then." 

174 


POMANDER     WALK 

"And  you'll  marry  us  the  same  day?"  asked 
Jack. 

"No,  no!"  replied  the  Doctor.  "The  day 
after,  perhaps." 

Marjolaine  ticked  the  days  off  on  her  fingers. 
"  Saturday  —  Sunday  —  Monday  —  Tuesday — ! 
Four  whole  days!  — " 

The  lovers  looked  at  each  other  disconsolately, 
and  together  sighed,  "Oh,  dear!" 

"And  what  am  I  to  do  till  then?"  cried  Jack. 
"  I  daren't  go  home.  My  father  's  quite  capable 
of  having  me  kidnapped  and  sent  to  my  ship!" 

Marjolaine  clung  to  him  with  a  little  cry.  "Oh, 
Jack!" 

He  turned  to  Doctor  Sternroyd  with  sudden 
decision.    "Doctor!    You  must  give  me  a  bed." 

The  Doctor  failed  to  understand.  "Give 
you—?" 

"A  bed." 

Doctor  Sternroyd  threw  up  his  hands  in 
protest.  "And  incur  your  noble  father's  dis- 
pleasure?" 

"On  the  contrary.  He'd  be  deeply  grateful 
to  you  for  showing  me  hospitality." 

"Ah,"  sighed  the  Antiquary,  shaking  his 
head,  "you'll  find  me  poor  company,  young 
gentleman." 

"It's  only  for  two  days,"  said  Jack  lightly. 
"We  can  play  chess."  He  turned  to  Marjolaine. 
"And  every  evening  we'll  meet  in  the  Gazebo. 

175 


POMANDER  WALK 

I  '11  whistle  so:  —  "  he  executed  a  fragment  which 
Marjolaine  repeated,  more  or  less  —  "and  you  '11 
come  out." 

Doctor  Sternroyd  was  troubled;  but  this  young 
man  had  a  way  with  him.  "Ah,  well!"  he  sighed, 
sitting  down  and  motioning  them  to  sit  beside 
him.  "Now  you  must  give  me  full  particulars: 
your  names,  ages,  professions,  if  any  —  " 

"How  exciting!"  cried  Marjolaine,  clapping 
her  hands. 

The  Antiquary  picked  up  one  of  the  books. 
"'Epicteii  qucs  supersunt  Dissertationes,^ "  he 
read,  affectionately.  "A  pencil!  Now,  Mr. 
Sayle  — "  So  they  bent  their  heads  together,  and 
were  very  busy,  giving  the  dates  of  birthdays, 
and  all  their  histories,  which  Doctor  Sternroyd 
meticulously  entered  on  the  fly-leaf  of  the  tome. 

The  rain  had  ceased.  The  sun  was  again 
shining  brightly,  turning  the  rain-drops  on  the 
foliage  of  the  elm  into  diamonds.  The  air  spar- 
kled, newly  washed.  The  Eyesore  in  his  corner 
had,  for  some  time,  been  showing  symptoms  of 
discomfort.  With  appetites  refreshed  by  the 
shower,  the  fish  were  displaying  a  lively  interest 
in  his  bait.  To  be  sure,  they  refused  to  swallow 
his  hook;  but  they  nibbled  at  his  worm  with 
great  zest,  and  kept  his  float  bobbing  up  and 
down  in  a  manner  which  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  attend  to  anything  else.  Yet  out  of  the 
corner  of   his   eye    he    could    sec    Sempronius, 

176 


As   THE   SUN    CAME   OUT,    OUT   (  AMK    Mk.   JeROME   BrOOKE- IIoSKYN, 
AS    RESPEKNOENT   AS   THE    SUN 


POMANDER  WALK 

stretched  at  full  length,  creeping  slowly,  almost 
imperceptibly,  but  with  deadly  determination, 
towards  the  fish  Jack  had  caught. 

The  Eyesore  said  "Hoo!"  but  Sempronius 
took  no  notice.  The  Eyesore  kicked;  but  Sem- 
pronius was  out  of  reach.  The  Eyesore  shook 
his  disengaged  fist;  but  Sempronius  only  smiled. 

As  the  sun  came  out,  out  came  Mr.  Jerome 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  as  resplendent  as  the  sun.  He 
was  truly  wonderful  to  behold:  his  magnificent 
beaver  hat  poised  at  an  improbable  angle,  his 
buckles  glittering,  and  his  vast  person  imposing 
under  the  countless  capes  of  his  driving-coat. 
Just  as  he  had  swaggered  to  his  gate  he  was 
evidently  arrested  by  a  voice  from  the  upper 
chamber. 

"Eh.-^  What.^"  he  asked  peevishly,  making  an 
ear-trumpetof  his  hand.  "Late  home.''  —  Yes;  I 
told  you  I  should  be.  Pitt  is  to  speak,  and  when 
once  he  's  on  his  legs  the  Lord  only  knows  when 
he'll  stop.  But  I  have  the  doorkey.  What.^ 
Yes,  I  did!  I  found  the  keyhole  easily  enough, 
but  the  key  was  twisted.  What.'*"  He  grew  pur- 
ple with  indignation.  "Sober! — Reely,  Selina! — " 
The  Walk  was  astir,  as  he  observed  to  his  con- 
fusion. "Dammit,  Ma'am,  they'll  hear  you 
howling  all  round  the  Walk!"  He  turned  just 
in  time  to  face  Miss  Ruth,  who  had  come  sailing 
up  to  him.  Everybody  was  either  at  their 
open  windows,  or  had  come  out  to  taste  the  fresh 

177 


POMANDER     WALK 

air.  The  Admiral  was  fussing  with  his  sweet 
peas;  Jim  was  helping  him;  Mrs.  Poskett  was 
watching  the  Admiral;  Basil  Pringle  was  strug- 
gling with  the  Kreutzer  Sonata;  Barbara  had 
left  Doctor  Johnson  and  was  leaning  out  of  the 
lower  window;  listening  to  Basil.  Even  the  ser- 
vants were  out  and  about;  only  Madame  was 
missing. 

Miss  Ruth  addressed  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
"Off  to  the  whirl  of  fashion  so  early .^" 

Brooke-Hoskyn  did  his  best  to  edge  her  away 
from  the  house  while  he  nervously  pulled  on  his 
buckskin  gloves.  "H'm,  it  is  a  long  way  to  the 
City,"  he  explained,  *'my  good  friends,  the 
Goldsmiths'  Company  —  a  banquet  to  the  Chi- 
nese Ambassador  —  my  shay  is  waiting  round  the 
corner." 

Miss  Ruth  tried  to  pass  him.  "I'll  go  and 
sit  with  your  wife,"  she  said,  with  the  kindest 
intention. 

"  On  no  account ! "  he  answered,  not  too  politely, 
interposing  his  solid  bulk  between  her  and  the 
gate.  Seeing  her  bridle,  he  corrected  himself. 
"Most  kind  of  you,  to  be  sure;  but  —  ah  — 
not  just  now.  I  left  the  dear  soul  asleep,  and 
dreaming  of  the  angels." 

Miss  Ruth  turned  away  disappointed,  and  her 
attention  was  at  once  diverted  by  the  Eyesore's 
extraordinary  antics.  Sempronius,  that  intelli- 
gent cat,  clearly  comprehending  that  the  fisher- 

178 


POMANDER  WALK 

man  could  not  leave  his  rod,  was  preparing  to 
spring  at  the  fish. 

"Oh!  look  at  the  Eyesore!"  cried  Miss  Ruth. 

"Haha!"  laughed  Brooke-Hoskyn.  "Sem- 
pronius  is  about  to  snatch  his  fish!  Observe 
his  antics!     Reely,  most  amusing!" 

In  the  Gazebo  the  lovers  and  Doctor  Stern- 
royd  had  finished,  and  the  Doctor  closed  the 
book  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  "There!  I 
think  that's  all!"  They  prepared  to  leave  their 
shelter,  unconscious  of  the  excitement  in  the 
Walk. 

But  at  that  moment  the  Eyesore,  driven  to 
desperation  by  the  threatened  loss  of  his  fish, 
sprang  at  Sempronius  with  uncontrollable  fury, 
seized  the  animal  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck,  and  — 
horresco  refer  ens  —  hurled  him  into  the  river. 
Then  he  picked  up  his  fish,  and  bolted. 

Ruth  screamed;  Barbara  screamed;  Nanette 
and  Jane  screamed;  while  Mrs.  Poskett  waved 
her  arms  and  screamed  louder  than  any  of  them: 
"Sempronius!  —  Save  him!" 

Ruth  turned  wildly  to  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 
"Save  him!" 

"In  these  clothes!"  cried  he,  much  offended. 

They  had  all  forgotten  the  hero  of  the  Battle 
of  Copenhagen.  To  fling  his  coat  to  Jim;  to 
seize  the  Eyesore's  landing-net;  to  stumble 
down  the  steps  to  the  river;  and  to  capture  the 
squirming  cat,  was  the  work  of  a  moment. 

179 


POMANDER     WALK 

Mrs.  Poskett  had  rushed  out  of  her  house 
just  In  time  to  meet  the  Admiral  bringing  the 
drenched  cat  up  the  steps  again.  In  his  open 
window  Basil  struck  up  "See  the  Conquering 
Hero  Comes,"  and,  while  Marjolaine,  Jack  and 
Doctor  Sternroyd  stood  petrified  in  the  Gazebo, 
all  the  rest  of  the  Walk  formed  an  admiring  cir- 
cle round  the  Admiral  and  Mrs.  Poskett. 

"Your  cat,  Ma'am,"  said  Sir  Peter  with  the 
simple  dignity  becoming  to  the  doer  of  a  great 
deed,  as  he  handed  her  the  struggling  and  yelling 
animal. 

And  what  do  you  think  she  did  ^  She  tossed  — 
tossed!  —  the  cat  to  Jim,  and,  exclaiming,  "My 
hero!  My  preserver!"  flung  her  arms  round  the 
Admiral's  neck  and  kissed  him  on  both  ckeeks. 

And  at  that  precise  moment,  while  the  whole 
Walk  had  gone  frenzied  with  excitement,  while 
the  Admiral  was  standing  stupefied,  only  able 
to  ejaculate  "Gobblessmysoul!"  a  great  many 
times  in  succession;  at  that  precise  moment 
the  gaunt  Mysterious  Lady  entered  the  Walk, 
followed  by  her  gigantic  footman.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  fled. 

"'Ware  pirate.  Admiral!"  shouted  Jim.  All 
the  women,  except  Mrs.  Poskett,  who  was  lying 
half  unconscious  in  the  Admiral's  arms,  rushed 
to  their  doors,  where  they  stood,  watching 
further  developments. 

The  Mysterious  Lady  had  her  face-a-main  up, 

1 80 


POMANDER     WALK 

and  her  disgusted  stare  wandered  from  the  ex- 
cited women  to  the  dishevelled  group  formed  by 
Mrs.  Poskett  and  the  Admiral.  "What  horrible 
people!"  she  exclaimed.  She  bore  down  on  Sir 
Peter,  who  had  managed  to  shake  off  his  fair 
burden,  and  stood  panting  with  suppressed  fury. 

"You  dreadful  old  man — "  she  began. 

"Eh.?"  cried  the  Admiral.  "You,  again! 
Don't  you  speak  to  me!      I  'm  dangerous!" 

The  three  conspirators  in  the  Gazebo  were 
listening  with  all  their  ears. 

"You  don't  know  whom  you're  addressing!" 
said  the  Lady,  haughtily. 

"I  don't,  and  I  don't  want  to,"  answered  the 
Admiral,  mopping  his  brow. 

The  Lady  drew  herself  up  to  her  full  height. 
"I  am  Caroline  Thring!" 

"CaroHne —  !"  ejaculated  the  Admiral,  who 
had  caught  sight  of  Marjolaine  and  Jack.  But 
the  situation  was  too  much  for  him,  and  he  sank 
speechless  on  the  seat  under  the  elm. 

"Caroline!    Oh,  my  stars!"  cried  Jack. 

Fortunately  the  Honourable  Caroline  Thring 

turned   away   from   the  Gazebo   and   examined 

the  houses,  where  all  the  women  were  standing 

on  guard,   prepared   to  defend  the  doors   with 

their  lives.     Marjolaine  had  time  to  gather  her 

wits.     She  saw  the   Eyesore's   smock   and   hat 

lying  where  Jack  had  thrown  them.    "Put  those 

on!    Quick!"  she  cried. 

i8i 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Where  is  the  girl  with  the  curls?"  asked 
Caroline,  turning  fiercely  on  Sir  Peter. 

"I  —  I  —  I  —  don't  know,"  he  stammered. 

"In  the  summer-house,  no  doubt,"  said  she, 
beginning  to  advance  towards  it. 

"She  's  coming!"  whispered  Jack,  who  was  not 
nearly  ready.  Then,  to  Doctor  Sternroyd,  who 
was  standing  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the 
other  and  alternately  opening  and  shutting  his 
umbrella  in  his  helpless  bewilderment,  "Doctor! 
Lie!  Lie,  as  you  never  lied  before  in  your 
life!" 

But  Sir  Peter  had  jumped  up,  and  was  barring 
Caroline's  way.  "You  mustn't  go  there!  — 
You  can't  go  there!  —  You  shan't  go  there!" 

Caroline  gave  him  a  look  and  brushed  him 
away  with  a  contemptuous  motion  of  her  jace- 
a-main.    "Stand  aside,  intoxicated  person!" 

"Intoxicated!  —  Me!"  screamed  the  Admiral, 
sinking  back  on  the  seat. 

Caroline  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Doctor 
Sternroyd,  whom  Marjolaine  had  thrust  forward, 
just  as  you  throw  your  wife  or  your  child  to  the 
wolves  when  you  are  sleighing  in  Siberia.  "A 
clergyman!"  she  cried,  examining  him  with 
surprise. 

"A  humble  clerk  in  holy  orders,  Ma'am," 
stammered  the  Antiquary. 

Now  Caroline  saw  Marjolaine  with  difficulty 
supporting  a  decrepit  old  man  in  a  very  bad  hat 

182 


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POxMANDER     WALK 

and  a  very  dirty  smock.    Really  quite  a  touching 
picture. 

"Who  is  this?"  she  asked,  almost  mollified. 

"A  poor  man, your  Ladyship,"  said  Marjolaine, 
with  a  pretty  curtsey.  "I'm  teaching  him  his 
letters,  your  Ladyship."  Another  curtsey.  Then 
she  had  an  inspiration.  She  pointed  to  Doctor 
Sternroyd.  "And  this  kind  clergyman  is  going 
to  give  him  some  soup,  your  ladyship."  When 
she  had  completed  her  third  curtsey,  she  turned 
to  Jack.    "Come,  good  man.    Lean  on  me." 

Caroline  was  much  moved.  "I'm  glad  my 
first  visit  bore  such  good  fruit,"  she  said  patron- 
isingly.  Then  seeing  with  what  extreme  difficulty 
the  poor  old  man  walked,  and  not  to  be  outdone 
by  a  mere  chit  of  a  girl,  she  said  to  Jack,  "Give 
me  your  other  arm."  And  so  Jack  was  slowly  es- 
corted towards  Doctor  Sternroyd's  house,  while 
the  Walk  looked  on  and  admired. 

The  Walk  was  puzzled.  Here  was  the  Eyesore, 
suddenly  grown  very  old,  being  led  into  one  of 
their  houses,  and  the  Admiral  uttered  no  protest! 
As  a  matter  of  fact  the  Admiral  was  too  much 
occupied  in  mastering  his  desire  to  laugh,  to 
move  from  his  seat.  The  rest  of  the  Walk 
felt  that  Caroline  was  the  common  enemy, 
and  even  the  Eyesore  sank  into  secondary 
importance. 

For  all  but  Basil.  Basil,  who  had  watched  the 
entire  adventure  from  his  window,  nearly  spoilt 

183 


POMANDER     WALK 

the  whole  thing.    He  had  seen  the  Eyesore  run 
away  —  yet  here  was  the  Eyesore  — ! 

"But  the  Eyesore  ran  away!  Who's  — ?" 
he  shouted. 

Sir  Peter  recovered  breath  enough   to  gasp, 
Hold  your  tongue!" 

Well,  but,  Doctor  Sternroyd — "  protested 
Basil. 

"Hold  your  silly  tongue,  sir!"  cried  the  Doctor 
to  Basil's  infinite  amazement. 

Jack  disappeared  into  the  Antiquary's  house 
and  the  Antiquary  himself  stood  at  the  door 
waving  his  umbrella  like  a  sword.  Caroline 
turned  to  Marjolaine.  "You're  a  good  little 
girl,"  she  said,  kindly.  "Here's  a  six-penny 
bit."  Marjolaine,  quite  equal  to  the  occasion, 
received  it  with  a  fourth  curtsey,  and  a  modest 
"Thank  you,  my  Lady." 

I  think  Caroline  had  some  idea  of  following  into 
Doctor  Sternroyd's  house  to  see  that  her  ancient 
protege  was  well  bestowed,  but  just  as  she  got  to 
the  gate  the  Doctor  slammed  the  door  violently 
in  her  face;  and  the  whole  Walk  took  its  cue 
from  him,  so  that  as  Caroline  passed  along  the 
Walk  haughtily  tossing  her  head,  every  window 
was  closed  with  a  bang,  and  every  door  was 
slammed  with  a  bang,  bang,  bang,  bang,  bang! 

And  Marjolaine  and  the  Admiral  sat  under  the 
tree  and  shouted  with  laughter! 

184 


CHAPTER    XI 

r^*|  POMANDER   WALK   TAKES 

'   ^  A   DISH    OF   TEA 

THE  Walk  had  got  through  Sunday  as  best  it 
could.  It  had  gone  to  church ;  it  had  read 
good  books;  the  Admiral  had  carefully 
laid  "Hervey's  Meditations  among  the  Tombs" 
open  on  his  knees,  and  his  bandana  over  his  head, 
and  had  tried  to  sleep  his  Sunday  sleep.  But  it 
was  only  a  fitful  slumber.  Too  many  things  had 
happened  and  were  happening  in  the  Walk.  There 
was  Jack,  concealed  in  Doctor  Sternroyd's  house, 
for  one.  What  did  that  mean?  Sir  Peter  had 
called  on  Doctor  Sternroyd,  but  the  latter  stood 
in  his  doorway  with  the  door  only  ajar,  and 
would  not  allow  him  to  cross  the  threshold.  He 
had  kept  a  wary  eye  on  the  Walk  and  he  was 

185 


POMANDER     WALK 

sure  Jack  and  Marjolaine  had  not  met.  He 
himself  had  sat  under  the  elm  to  an  unconscion- 
able hour,  and  had  made  it  impossible  for  the 
lovers  to  meet.  He  would  not  betray  them,  but 
on  the  other  hand  there  should  be  no  underhand 
goings  on.  He  had  tried  to  intercept  Marjolaine 
and  talk  to  her  like  the  Dutch  uncle  he  had 
alluded  to,  but  she  laughed  in  his  face,  and  ran 
away.  But  that  was  not  all  that  troubled  him. 
He  had  undoubtedly  been  embraced,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  whole  Walk,  by  Mrs.  Poskett.  There 
was  no  blinking  that  fact;  and  he  felt  that  his 
neighbours,  with  gross  unfairness,  put  the  blame 
on  him.  After  the  morning  service.  Miss  Ruth 
Pennymint,  who  had  gone  to  church  alone,  re- 
fused to  walk  home  with  him  for  the  first  time 
in  his  experience,  and  only  gave  a  very  lame 
excuse.  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  looked  at  him  with 
a  disapproving  eye.  Mrs.  Poskett  had  not  shown 
herself  since  the  awful  scene  with  the  cat.  He 
had  instructed  Jim  to  reconnoitre;  I  don't 
know  how  Jim  carried  out  that  delicate  task, 
but  he  came  back  to  his  master  with  the  report 
that  Mrs.  Poskett  was  mortal  bad,  to  be  sure. 
Even  Basil  Pringle  had  been  very  distant  with 
him  when  they  met  after  church. 

The  Admiral  turned  and  twisted  in  his  chair. 
Surely  the  flies  were  more  troublesome  than 
usual  so  early  in  the  summer. 

He  was  so  put  about  that,  contrary  to  his  usual 

1 86 


POMANDER  WALK 

custom,  he  went  to  church  again  in  the  evening. 
Madame  Lachesnais  was  there,  and  to  his  con- 
fusion asked  him  to  escort  her  home.  Marjolaine 
walked  on  in  front  with  Mr.  Pringle  and  Ruth. 

Madame  had  noticed  the  curious  discomfort 
that  pervaded  the  Walk.  She  had  seen  and 
heard  nothing  of  yesterday's  occurrences,  as  she 
had  been  shut  in  her  own  little  room  at  the  back 
of  the  house,  busy  with  her  own  troubles.  She 
took  the  Admiral  into  her  confidence.  Did  he 
know  what  was  the  matter  with  the  Walk."*  It 
seemed  as  if  some  imp  of  mischief  had  set  every- 
body by  the  ears.  She  had  ventured  to  address 
Doctor  Sternroyd  that  morning,  and  he  had 
turned  even  paler  than  usual — positively  green — 
and  had  run  away  from  her.  What  was  the  matter 
with  Mrs.  Poskett.''  Why  had  not  Barbara  been 
to  church  all  day.''  And  he,  himself,  why  was  he 
so  silent.?    Why  did  he  seem  to  wish  to  avoid  her.-^ 

The  Admiral  was  greatly  troubled.  He  could 
only  stammer  that  he  supposed  it  was  the  change 
in  the  weather.  "Well,"  said  Madame,  "I  can- 
not let  our  good  friends  go  on  like  this.  Why, 
we  should  be  unable  to  live  together  in  the  Walk, 
if  we  were  not  all  on  excellent  terms  with  each 
other."  And  so  the  next  morning  all  the  in- 
habitants of  the  Walk  received  a  pretty  little 
three-cornered  note,  asking  them  to  an  al  fresco 
tea-party  that  evening,  under  the  elm. 

Jack    had    never  spent  such  a  Sunday,   and 

187 


POMANDER     WALK 

privately  registered  a  vow  he  would  never 
spend  such  another.  Doctor  Sternroyd  did  all 
his  own  housekeeping;  he  said  he  would  rather 
spend  his  money  on  a  book  than  on  a  cook.  He 
invariably  rose  at  six.  He  routed  Jack  out  at 
that  hour.  At  half-past  six  he  was  at  work  in 
his  study,  even  on  Sundays.  At  nine  he  made 
his  breakfast,  a  thin  cup  of  tea  and  a  very  thin 
rasher  of  bacon.  What  Jack  did  between  six 
and  nine,  I  do  not  know.  After  breakfast  the 
Doctor  went  back  to  his  study  and  he  gave  Jack 
his  great  manuscript  work  on  "Prehistoric 
Remains  found  in  the  Alluvial  Deposit  of  the 
Estuary  of  the  Thames,  together  with  Observa- 
tions on  the  Cave-dwellers  of  Ethiopia,"  to  while 
away  the  time.  When  the  Doctor  went  to  church 
he  locked  Jack  in  his  room.  After  church  he 
went  for  a  long  walk  and  forgot  all  about  Jack. 
And  he  had  forgotten  all  about  him  when  he 
came  back,  so  that  Jack  was  forced  to  raise  a 
perfect  riot  before  he  could  get  released.  By 
midday  on  Monday  Jack  had  worked  his  way 
through  every  edible  thing  in  the  house,  and  on 
Monday  afternoon  the  Doctor  not  only  had  to 
go  and  see  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  on  the 
subject  of  the  licence,  but  had  been  strictly 
enjoined  by  Jack  to  bring  home  food. 

Fortunately    for    Madame's    tea-party,    that 
Monday  evening  was  an  ideal  one.     June  had 

i88 


POMANDER     WALK 

come  and  the  roses  in  the  little  gardens  had 
taken  the  opportunity  to  burst  into  bloom.  The 
elm  was  in  its  fresh  summer  garb.  The  setting 
sun  shone  level  through  its  leaves  and  turned 
them  all  to  burnished  gold.  It  gilded  the  entire 
Walk,  and  set  the  panes  in  the  windows  flashing 
and  flaming;  even  the  dirty  little  oil  lamps  were 
glorified  as  they  reflected  the  golden  blaze.  The 
river  shimmered  with  opal  and  amethyst;  and  a 
great  barge,  drifting  down  with  the  tide,  might 
have  borne  Cleopatra  and  all  her  retinue,  so 
gorgeously  was  it  transfigured. 

Not  all  the  Walk  was  present.  The  Doctor,  as 
we  have  just  seen,  was  engaged  with  the  Arch- 
bishop, and  with  his  own  marketing.  Miss 
Barbara  had  sent  a  polite  excuse.  Her  actual 
words  were  "Miss  Barbara  Pennymint  presents 
her  Compliments  to  Madame  Lachesnais  and  is 
much  obliged  for  her  kind  invitation  to  tea. 
Miss  Barbara  Pennymint  much  regrets  she  can- 
not avail  herself  of  Madame  Lachesnais'  proff"ered 
hospitality  as  I  am  engaged  in  an  educational 
experiment." 

Mrs.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  of  course,  was  absent,  as 
usual,  for  purely  personal  and  private  reasons. 

But  all  the  others  were  there.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  was  resplendent  in  a  plum-coloured 
suit,  of  which  the  breeches  fitted  so  tightly,  and 
of  which  the  waist  was  so  narrow,  that  he  scarcely 
dared  breathe. 

189 


POMANDER     WALK 

Mrs.  Poskett  and  Ruth  had  put  on  their  best 
gowns;  the  Admiral  wore  his  gala  uniform 
with  all  his  medals,  and  his  three-cornered  hat. 
Madame  herself  was  a  vision  of  loveliness.  She 
had  discarded  her  half-mourning  for  the  occa- 
sion; but  what  she  wore  I  cannot  tell  you,  except 
that  it  was  a  soft  blue,  and  that  there  was  grace- 
ful lace  about  her  neck  and  wrists.  If  you  wish 
to  see  what  she  looked  like,  you  have  only  to 
examine  a  Book  of  the  Modes  of  1805,  and 
you  will  find  her  there.  Even  Mr.  Basil  Pringlc 
was  brushed. 

Nanette  and  Jim  —  Jim  in  his  best  clothes  — 
waited  on  Madame's  guests.  The  latter  were 
all  on  their  best  behaviour.  You  never  saw 
anything  more  elegant  than  the  way  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  stuck  out  his  little  finger  as  he  raised 
his  cup  to  his  lips;  you  never  heard  prettier 
protests  than  when  Marjolaine  offered  Mrs. 
Poskett  a  third  helping  of  cake.  "I  couldn't! 
I  reely  and  truly  couldn't!  —  Well,  since  you 
insist!" 

But  do  what  Madame  would  she  could  not 
put  her  guests  quite  at  their  ease.  A  sort  of 
blight  brooded  over  their  spirits.  This  was  par- 
ticularly noticeable  in  their  attitude  towards 
Sir  Peter.  They  treated  him  with  unaccus- 
tomed aloofness;  they  kept  him  at  arm's  length; 
they  did  not  respond  to  his  sallies;  with  the 
result   that   his   sallies   became  more   forced  as 

190 


POMANDER    WALK 

the  evening  wore  on.  As  a  contrast  to  this 
gentle  gloom,  Marjolaine's  high  spirits  amazed 
her  mother.  This  child,  who  only  last  Saturday 
was  broken-hearted,  to-day  was  laughing  and 
blithe,  rallying  her  guests,  prettily  playing  the 
hostess,  the  only  life  in  the  party.  Madame 
watched  her  with  puzzled  anxiety. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  with  the  calf  of  his  leg 
well  displayed,  and  his  little  finger  well  at  right 
angles  to  his  cup,  bowed  elegantly.  "Ah,  Ladies, 
there  is  nothing  so  comforting  as  a  dish  of  tea 
after  dinner.    It  is  prodigiously  soothing!" 

There  seemed  no  appropriate  rejoinder,  but 
Mrs.  Poskett  exploded  with  "Nothing  can 
soothe  the  broken  heart."  She  spoke  into 
her  cup,  but  her  eyes  wandered  towards  the 
Admiral. 

Sir  Peter  tried  to  change  the  conversation. 
Also  he  felt  it  was  time  to  assert  himself.  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  had  been  monopolising  the 
notice  of  the  ladies  far  too  long. 

"Hah!"  he  cried,  "I  've  always  said  Pomander 
Walk  was  a  Haven  of  Content.  Look  at  it!" 
You  remember  that  the  last  time  he  made  a 
similar  remark  everybody  obediently  turned  at 
his  command.  Imagine  his  feelings,  then,  when 
on  this  occasion  nobody  paid  the  slightest  at- 
tention. On  the  contrary,  they  ostentatiously 
turned  to  each  other  and  began  spirited  conver- 
sations about  nothing  in  particular.    He  repeated, 

191 


POMANDER  WALK 

"I  say,  look  at  itl"  but  only  drew  a  glare  from 
Brooke-Hoskyn. 

Marjolaine  came  to  the  rescue.  She  tripped 
up  to  him  and  put  her  arm  through  his.  "There  's 
something  the  matter  with  the  Walk  this  evening, 
Sir  Peter.     I  'm  the  only  merry  one  among  you !  " 

Madame  could  not  help  exclaiming  with  grave 
remonstrance,  "Marjolaine!" 

Marjolaine  came  close  to  her  mother.  "Oh, 
let  me  laugh,  Maman!"  She  proceeded  in  a 
whisper,  "They  are  so  droll!  Sir  Peter  is  afraid 
of  Mrs.  Poskett;  Mrs.  Poskett  Is  almost  in 
tears;  Mr.  Basil  is  gloomy;  Ruth  is  in  a  bad 
temper;  and  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  has  n't  got 
over  Saturday's  banquet." 

"But  you,  Marjolaine — !"  exclaimed  Ma- 
dame with  quiet  reproof. 

"You  told  me  to  fight  it,  Maman,"  said  Mar- 
jolaine, with  a  shy  laugh.  Then  she  ran  across  to 
Basil,  who  was  watching  the  door  through  which 
Barbara  might  still  come.  He  was  wondering 
what  demon  had  persuaded  him  to  accept  this 
invitation,  which  had  brought  him  out  of  doors, 
when  he  might  have  stayed  indoors  where  he 
would  at  least  have  been  under  the  same  roof  as 
Barbara. 

The  Admiral  had  bravely  recovered  from  his 
rebuff.  He  came  up  to  Brooke-Hoskyn.  "Well, 
Brooke,  my  boy!  Did  n't  see  you  in  church 
yesterday.      Too   much    turtle   on    Saturday  — 

192 


POMANDER     WALK 

what?"  and  down  came  the  flat  of  his  hand  with 
a  round  thwack  on  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  broad 
back. 

To  be  accused  of  having  overeaten  yourself 
when  you  are  suffering  from  a  bad  headache  is 
extremely  annoying;  to  be  slapped  on  the  back 
when  you  are  swallowing  hot  tea  is  infuriat- 
ing. Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  turned  on  Sir  Peter. 
"Nothing  of  the  sort,  sir!  —  I  deprecate  these 
unseemly  familiarities.  I  was  detained  from 
divine  service  because  I  chose  to  sit  at  home  and 
hold  my  dear  Selina's  hand!"  And  he  turned 
his  back  on  Sir  Peter. 

"Um,"  said  the  latter.  His  playful  banter 
was  certainly  not  being  well  received. 

Mrs.  Poskett  looked  up  at  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
with  melancholy  eyes.  "How  is  your  wife.'"' 
she  said,  "that  dear,  innocent  lamb." 

"Gambolling,  Ma'am,"  he  answered,  airily. 
"Figuratively  speaking,  Selina  is  gambolling." 

"How  wonderful!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Poskett, 
sympathetically. 

Basil  Pringle  felt  that  something  drastic 
must  be  done  if  they  were  to  live  through  the 
evening.  Pie  addressed  Marjolaine.  "Miss 
Marjory,  won't  you  cheer  us  with  a  song.'"' 

Madame  Lachcsnais  interposed  quickly:  this 
was  putting  her  poor  child's  courage  to  too  severe 
a  test.  "I  am  sure  she  would  prefer  not  to  sing 
this  evening." 

193 


POMANDER     WALK 

But  Marjolaine  exclaimed  merrily,  "Oh,  yes, 
Maman,  if  they  would  like  it!" 

Madame  could  only  admire  her  indomitable 
pluck.     "Brave  child!"  she  murmured. 

"Sing  that  pretty  little  thing  about  the  blue 
ribbon,"  cried  the  Admiral,  and  hummed  the 
first  bar. 

"Ha!"  mockingly  cried  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 

The  Admiral  faced  him  angrily:   "Well,  sir.''" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  eyed  him  calmly  through 
his  quizzing  glass,  and  said  coldly,  "What, 
sir.?" 

Madame  interposed  with  her  most  amiable 
smile.    "Sir  Peter,  Mrs.  Poskett's  cup  is  empty." 

"Is  it.''"  growled  Sir  Peter,  without  moving. 
But  Madame's  hand  was  stretched  out  to  receive 
it,  and  he  had  to  yield. 

"Oh  hang!  —  Your  cup.  Ma'am."  He  almost 
snatched  it  from  her. 

"How  kind  and  gentle  you  are,"  almost  sobbed 
Mrs.  Poskett,  with  an  adoring  glance. 

The  Admiral  answered  her  with  a  glare. 
"  Kind  be  —  "  he  was  silenced  by  a  stern  "  Hush ! " 
from  Basil,  and  had  to  relieve  his  feelings  by 
inarticulate  splutterings. 

Marjolaine  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  circle, 
with  her  hands  folded  in  front  of  her,  and  sang 
very  simply  and  unaffectedly: 

"Oh,  dear!     What  can  the  matter  be? 
Dear,  dear!    What  can  the  matter  be? 

194 


POMANDER     WALK 

Oh,  dear!     What  can  the  matter  be? 

Johnny  's  so  long  at  the  fair. 
He  promised  he  'd  buy  me  a  fairing  should  please  me, 
And  then  for  a  kiss,  oh!  he  vowed  he  would  tease 

me, 
He  promised  he  'd  buy  me  a  bunch  of  blue  ribbons 

To  tie  up  my  bonny  brown  hair." 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  applauded  in  the  grand 
manner  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  as  if  he  had 
been  at  the  Opera.  "Brava!  Brava!"  he  cried, 
with  the  discrimination  of  a  connoisseur. 

"Brava  be  hanged!"  roared  the  Admiral. 
"Capital!"  He  turned  to  Miss  Ruth.  "Where's 
little  Miss  Barbara.^" 

To  his  consternation  Miss  Ruth  hissed  a 
fierce  "Hsssh!"  at  him. 

"Well,  I  'm—  !"  he  muttered  to  himself. 

Marjolaine  sang  the  second  verse.  You  are  to 
understand  that  she  made  a  very  pleasant  picture 
as  she  stood  warbling  the  quaint  old  ballad  with 
unaffected  simplicity.  Jack  evidently  thought 
so,  for,  braving  the  danger  of  discovery,  he  stood, 
gaunt  and  hungry,  watching  her  from  behind  the 
curtains  in  Doctor  Sternroyd's  window.  Indeed, 
all  the  Walk  was  affected  by  her  charm.  Heads 
nodded  to  the  tune;  feet  kept  time  to  the  rhythm; 
hearts  melted  — Mrs.  Poskctt's  heart,  especially. 
She  gazed  reproachfully  at  the  Admiral.  What, 
indeed,  could  the  matter  be.'*  and  why,  indeed, 
was  her  Johnnie,  whose  name  was  Peter,  so  long 

195 


POMANDER     WALK 

at  the  fair?  Jim  and  Nanette  had  come  into  the 
circle,  fascinated  by  the  song.  Jim  was  trying 
to  insinuate  an  arm  round  Nanette's  ample 
waist,  but  only  got  pinched  for  his  pains. 

"  He  promised  he  'd  buy  me  a  basket  of  posies, 
A  garland  of  lilies,  a  garland  of  roses, 
A  little  straw  hat  to  set  off  the  blue  ribbons 

That  tie  up  my  bonny  brown  hair. 
And  it's  oh,  dear!    What  can  the  matter  be.-* 
Dear,  dear!    What  can  the  matter  be.^ 
Oh,  dear!     What  can  the  matter  be.? 

Johnny  's  so  long  at  the  fair!  " 

Almost  unconsciously  the  whole  Walk  drifted 
into  the  song,  so  that  the  last  lines  were  being 
sung  by  everybody.  The  Admiral,  indeed,  who 
never  knew  when  a  song  was  over,  went  on  long 
after  everybody  else  had  finished.  In  his  enthu- 
siasm he  added  weird  shouts  to  the  words:  — 
"Oh!  Damme!  Ahoy!  What  can  the  matter 
be.?" 

Mrs.  Poskett  burst  into  loud  sobs.  "Oh, 
don't!  —  I  can't  bear  it!" 

Ruth  turned  fiercely  on  the  Admiral.  "  Brute ! " 
she  cried. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  stopping  both  ears 
with  his  hands.  "Mong  doo!  Mong  doo!"  he 
drawled.  And  then  in  that  curiously  official 
manner  he  sometimes  dropped  into,  "Pray 
silence  for  the  Admiral's  song!"    It  was  a  very 

irritating  manner. 

196 


POMANDER     WALK 

Sir  Peter  made  furiously  towards  him.  "By 
Jehoshaphat  — !" 

But  Madame,  ever  alert,  stopped  him.  She 
held  out  a  full  cup.  "Sir  Peter,"  she  said,  with 
her  sweetest  smile,  indicating  Mrs.  Poskett, 
"take  her  another  dish  of  tea." 

"Me,  Ma'am!"  protested  the  outraged  Ad- 
miral; but  there  was  no  resisting  that  smile,  and 
he  took  it  like  a  lamb  —  an  angry  lamb.  "It's 
a  confounded  conspiracy,"  he  growled.  He 
thrust  the  tea  under  Mrs.  Poskett's  nose.  "Your 
tea,  Ma'am!" 

"How  sweet  of  you!"  sobbed  Mrs.  Poskett. 

The  Admiral  danced  with  rage.  "Dash  it 
and  hang  it,  Ma'am,  you're  crying  into  it!" 

Marjolaine  had  taken  Miss  Ruth  aside. 
"Where  is  Barbara.'"'  she  asked. 

"It's  enough  to  make  a  saint  swear,"  answered 
Ruth,  snappishly.  "  She  's  been  locked  in  with 
Doctor  Johnson  since  Saturday.  Locked  in! 
Only  comes  out  for  meals."  Marjolaine  laughed 
quietly  to  herself. 

Sir  Peter  had  been  moving  restlessly  round 
the  Walk.  He  now  found  himself  face  to  face 
with  Basil.  "Pringle,"  he  said,  "can  you  tell 
me  what's  come  over  the  Walk.^" 

Basil  drew  himself  up.  "The  Walk  has 
lofty  ideals,  sir,"  he  said  sternly.  "Perhaps  you 
have  fallen  short  of  them."  He  turned  away 
and  stalked  towards  Barbara's  house. 

197 


(I 


POMANDER     WALK 

The  Admiral  was  left  speechless.  He  —  he! 
Admiral  Sir  Peter  Antrobus  —  had  been  snubbed 
by  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  by  Ruth,  and  now 
by  this  —  this  fiddler-fellow!  He  could  only 
mutter,  "Well!  —  blister  my  paint  —  !" 

He  was  aroused  by  the  booming  of  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn's  voice. 

Yes,  Ladies,"   that  great   man  was   saying, 
Sherry  was  in  fine  condition  on  Saturday!" 

The  Admiral  was  not  going  to  hoist  the  white 
flag.  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  must  be  put  in  his  pro- 
per place.    "And  port,  too,  eh,  Brooke,  my  boy.''" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  eyed  him  sternly  and 
haughtily.  "My  name  is  Brooke-Hoskyn,  sir, 
and  I  was  referring  to  my  Right  Honourable 
friend,  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan!" 

"Why  couldn't  you  say  so.''"  grumbled  Sir 
Peter. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  continued.  "As  I  was 
about  to  say  when  —  "  he  looked  contemptu- 
ously at  the  Admiral  —  "when  I  was  Interrupted 
—  What  wit !    What  brilliance ! " 

"Oh,  do  tell  us!"  cried  Ruth.  The  ladies  all 
hung  on  his  lips.  He  tasted  the  full  flavour 
of  popularity.  He  let  it  linger  on  his  palate. 
He  was  in  no  hurry.  "In  order  to  appreciate 
the  point,  you  must  remember  how  sultry  the 
weather  was  on  Saturday." 

"Gave  you  a  headache,  what.''"  put  in  the 
irrepressible  Admiral. 

198 


Then  he  resumed.    "  Krooke,"  says  he,  —  "Brooke, 
MY  Boy,"  —  JUST  like  that 


POMANDER     WALK 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  did  his  best  to  wither 
him  with  a  look.  Then  he  resumed.  "Brooke, 
says  he  —  Brooke,  my  boy"  —  just  like  that  — 
all  craned  forward:  they  must  not  miss  the  point 
—  "it's  a  very  warm  night."  His  audience 
waited.  Yes.?  The  rest  of  the  story.?  He 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  a  little  uncom- 
fortably. When  they  found  nothing  more  was 
coming  they  turned  to  each  other,  puzzled. 
Could  this  be  all.?  Was  their  perspicacity  at 
fault?  or  where  was  the  joke.?  The  Admiral, 
bolder  than  the  rest,  gave  voice  to  the  general 
feeHng.    "H'm.    I  don't  see  much  in  that." 

"Nobody  ever  suspected  you  of  having  a 
sense  of  humour,"  said  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
severely.  However,  he  felt  that  his  first  effort 
had  not  been  the  success  he  had  hoped  for,  and 
he  tried  again.  "Ah!"  —  said  he,  brightening 
up,  "and  my  friend,  H.R.H.  the  P.  of  W.!" 
He  uttered  the  cabalistic  letters  with  a  mixture 
of  mystery  and  airy  familiarity.  There  was  an 
awed  "Oh-h!"  from  all  his  hearers  except  Sir 
Peter.  The  latter  exclaimed  impatiently,  "Your 
friend  who.?" 

The  reply  came  with  crushing  weight.  "His 
Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales,  sir!"  The 
Admiral  reeled  under  the  shock  of  this  broad- 
side. 

Mrs.  Poskett  leant  forward  eagerly.  "What 
did  the  dear  Prince  say .?    My  poor  husband  knew 

199 


POMANDER     WALK 

him  well,"  she  explained.  "When  Mr.  Alderman 
Poskett  was  Sheriff,  the  dear  Prince  frequently 
dined  with  the  Corporation,  and  many  's  the  time 
he  said  to  Poskett,  'Mr,  Sheriff,  you  must  be 
knighted,'  but  Poskett  went  and  died  —  " 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  annoyed.  He  was 
being  interrupted,  which  is  a  thing  intolerable, 
and  his  own  anecdote  was  being  supplanted.  He 
held  up  a  deprecatory  hand.  "  It  was  not  so  much 
what  he  said,"  he  explained,  "as  his  manner  of 
saying  it.  Just:  —  'Ah,  Brooke!'  —  but  oh! 
the  elegance!    Oh,  the  condescension!" 

Sir  Peter  broke  out  with,  "Well,  of  all  the—  !" 

But  Madame  stopped  him  with  a  touch  on 
his  arm.  "Do  you  ever  make  speeches,  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn.^"  she  asked  sweetly. 

The  great  man  looked  at  her  with  something 
like  suspicion.  For  a  moment  he  was  undeniably 
flustered.  But  he  mastered  himself  with  an  effort 
and  replied  with  a  fair  assumption  of  careless- 
ness, "Short  ones,  Ma'am.  Frequent,  but  short. 
I  have  proposed  the  health  of  many  gentlemen 
of  distinction." 

"How  clever  you  must  be!"  cried  Ruth, 
admiringly. 

"Oh  —  !"  protested  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  with 
exquisite  modesty. 

Madame  pointed  to  the  river,  now  gleaming 
in  the  afterglow.  "How  strangely  empty  the 
Walk  looks  without  our  fisherman!" 

200 


POMANDER  WALK 


a- 


I  was  wondering  what  I  missed,"  said  Basil, 
■"'of  course!    The  Eyesore!" 

"He  leaves  a  blank,"  added  Ruth. 

Marjolaine  laughed.  "  He  was  a  sort  of  statue." 

Mrs.  Poskett  confided  tearfully  to  her  tea-cup. 
"The  Walk  Is  not  the  Walk  without  him." 

Sir  Peter  was  genuinely  astonished.  "Why, 
he  tried  to  drown  your  cat,  Ma'am!" 

Madame  playfully  shook  her  finger  at  him, 
"Oh,  Sir  Peter!  have  you  driven  the  poor  man 
away.''" 

The  Walk  eyed  him  severely,  and  all  cried  as 
with  one  voice,  "For  shame.  Sir  Peter!"  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  went  on  booming,  "Shame! 
Shame!"  all  by  himself,  long  after  the  others 
were  silent. 

The  Admiral's  patience  was  nearly  exhausted. 
Here  was  Madame  turning  against  him  now. 
The  injustice  of  it  infuriated  him.  He  stamped 
with  rage.  "But,  hang  it  and  dash  it,  I  haven't 
seen  him!"  he  roared.  But  nobody  believed 
him.  All  shook  their  heads  gloomily,  and  said 
"Ah!" 


20 1 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN   WHICH   THE    OLD 
CONSPIRACY    IS 
TRIUMPHANT 
AND    A    NEW 
CONSPIRACY 
IS    HATCHED 


LITTLE  Miss  Barbara  Pennymint  came 
flying  out  of  her  iiouse:  a  little  more 
and  she  would  have  flown  over  the  rail- 
ings. Her  cheeks  were  glowing  with  joy,  her  eyes 
glittering  with  excitement.  She  saw  nothing  of 
the  tea-party,  but  dashed  headlong  into  the 
midst  of  it  as  a  sea-mew  dashes  at  a  lighthouse. 
*' Marjory!  Marjory!"  she  cried.  Then  she 
saw  all  the  people  staring  at  her,  and  stopped, 
abashed.  "Oh!  I  had  forgotten!"  she  exclaimed, 
and  spread  her  wings  to  fly  back  again,  but 
Madame  stopped  her. 

"A  dish  of  tea.  Miss  Barbara?" 

"No!"  cried  Barbara,  violently,  but  remem- 
bering her  manners  she  corrected  herself.  "Oh, 
no,  thank  you!"  She  hopped  and  skipped  to 
Marjolaine,  who  had  come  half-way  to  meet  her. 
"Marjory,"  she  said,  overflowing  with  excite- 
ment, "can  I  speak  to  you.^" 

Before  Marjolaine  could  answer.  Sir  Peter  had 

202 


POMANDER  WALK 

borne  down  on  them.  Here,  at  last,  was  some- 
body who  had  not  snubbed  him  yet.  "Ah,  Miss 
Barbara,"  he  bellowed,  with  clumsy  playfulness, 
"I  didn't  see  you  in  church  yesterday!" 

As  if  Barbara  wanted  to  be  reminded  of  that! 

"Wasn't  I  there?"  she  stammered,  utterly 
taken  aback.  "I  don't  remember."  She  tried 
to  get  away,  but  the  Admiral  was  inexorable. 
*'  Come,  now !    Come,  now !    What  was  the  text  ^ " 

Unhappy  little  Barbara  saw  all  the  eyes  of 
the  Walk  fixed  on  her.  She  had  to  say  something. 
"Oh!  I  know!"  she  cried  at  last,  and  proceeded 
volubly,  "'If  any  of  you  know  of  any  cause  or 
just  impediment — '" 

"Barbara!"  screamed  Miss  Ruth,  indignantly, 
while  the  others  laughed  at  her  confusion. 
Basil  heaved  a  great  sigh.  Still  thinking  of  the 
lost  one!  Marjolaine  came  to  the  rescue  and 
drew  Barbara  away  from  her  tormentor.  "  Come 
away,  Babs!"  She  turned  severely  on  poor  Sir 
Peter,  "Don't  worry  her.  Sir  Peter!" 

"Try  to  put  some  sense  in  her,  Miss  Marjory," 
said  Ruth,  as  the  two  girls  ran  away,  with  their 
arms,  as  usual,  round  each  others'  waists. 

The  Admiral  was  crushed.  "Even  Missie!" 
he  groaned.  But  he  saw  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
preparing  to  tell  another  anecdote.  This  gave 
him  new  courage.  Putting  on  his  courtliest 
manner,  he  exclaimed,  "Well,  Ladies!  To- 
morrow is  the  Fourth  of  June!" 

203 


POMANDER  WALK 


(( 


'As  this  is  the  Third,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn,  with  fine  sarcasm,  "you  might 
safely  have  left  us  to  infer  that,  sir!" 

He  was  standing  close  to  Mrs.  Poskett,  who 
had  not  moved  from  her  seat  under  the  elm. 
Sir  Peter  came  and  faced  him,  so  that  the  poor 
lady  found  herself,  as  she  afterwards  described  it, 
between  the  upper  and  the  nether  millstone. 

If  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  could  wield  sarcasm, 
so  could  Sir  Peter  when  he  was  put  to  it.  He 
spoke  with  dangerous  politeness.  "But  it  seems 
necessary  to  remind  the  bosom  friend  of  H.R.H. 
the  P.  of  W.  that  it  is  the  birthday  of  His  Most 
Gracious  Majesty  King  George  the  Third!  —  " 
The  shot  told.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  was  silenced.  Sir  Peter  went  on,  con- 
scious of  victory,  "Ladies,  I  warn  you  not  to  be 
alarmed  when  you  hear  me  fire  the  salute  as 
usual!" 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  leaped  —  positively  leaped 
at  his  opportunity.  "As  usual!  —  Ha!  That 
brass  popgun  of  yours  —  " 

"Popgun!  — "  roared  the  Admiral,  leaning 
across  Mrs.  Poskett. 

"I  said  popgun,  sir!  —  has  never  gone  off, 
yet!" 

Mrs.  Poskett  was  in  a  dreadful  flutter.  She 
held  up  her  cup  and  saucer  deprecatingly  to 
each  of  the  infuriated  gentlemen  in  turn,  and 
each  automatically  seized  them  and  rattled  them 

204 


POMANDER  WALK 

in  the  other's  face.  Jim  —  moved  by  his  guilty 
conscience  —  was  signalling  frantically  to  Mr. 
Brooke-Hoskyn  not  to  betray  him. 

The  Admiral  was  purple  in  the  face.  "Be- 
cause some  infernal  scoundrel  has  always  tam- 
pered with  the  charge!"  The  accumulated 
grievances  of  the  evening  welled  up  within  him. 
"But  to-night,"  he  went  on,  thrusting  the  cup 
and  saucer  roughly  on  Mrs.  Poskett  and  spilling 
the  tea  over  her  beautiful  silk  gown,  "to-night, 
I'll  load  it  myself!  and,  damme!  I'll  take  it  to 
bed  with  me!"  And  with  that  he  stumped  off 
in  a  rage  into  his  house,  thrusting  the  innocent 
Basil  and  the  terrified  Jim  out  of  his  way  with 
horrible  objurgations. 

"Now,  Ladies!"  said  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
triumphantly,  "you  see  the  man's  real  nature!" 

Poor  Mrs.  Poskett's  nerves  were  completely 
shattered,  and  she  was  trying  to  drink  tea  out 
of  her  empty  cup. 

Ruth  came  and  sat  beside  her.  "We  shall 
break  the  Admiral  down,  yet,  my  dear.  His 
temper  is  all  due  to  conscience." 

"Alderman  Poskett  was  just  like  that  when- 
ever he  had  sanded  the  sugar,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett, 
tearfully. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  was  devoting  himself  to 
Madame.  Jim  and  Nanette  were  removing  the 
tea-things  Into  Madamc's  house,  and  that  ras- 
cally Jim,  who  was  old  enough  to  know  better 

20S 


POMANDER     WALK 

—  but  is  anybody  ever  old  enough  to  know 
better?  —  was  making  the  most  of  his  chances. 

Marjolaine  and  Barbara  had  retired  into  the 
Gazebo.  "Yes!"  twittered  Barbara,  continuing 
their  conversation,  "he's  learnt  it!  He  does 
surround  it  with  flowers  of  speech,  but  he  says 
it  quite  clearly." 

"Dear  Doctor  Johnson!"  cried  Marjolaine, 
laughing,  and  clapping  her  hands. 

Barbara  shuddered  reminiscently.  "But  I 
cannot  bear  his  eye  on  me!  It's  like  Charles's. 
And  he  is  moulting  —  which  more  than  ever 
increases  the  resemblance.  Oh,  Marjory,  he 
looked  at  me  so  coldly  all  the  time  I  was  teaching 
him!" 

"Never  mind  how  he  looked,  if  he'll  only 
talk!" 

Barbara  embraced  her  frantically.  "How 
can  I  ever  thank  you?" 

Basil  was  standing  by  the  chains  that  separated 
the  Walk  from  the  river.  The  melancholy  of 
the  evening  had  entered  his  soul.  Ruth  came 
up  to  him.  He  was  an  idiot,  to  be  sure,  yet  her 
heart  went  out  to  him  in  sympathy.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  and  Mrs.  Poskett  were  thanking  Madame 
for  her  hospitality.  Jack  could  be  seen  peeping 
impatiently  out  of  Doctor  Sternroyd's  window, 
or  striding  to  and  fro  in  the  room  like  a  caged 
tiger  at  feeding  time. 

Marjolaine  whispered   to  Barbara.     "If  you 

206 


POMANDER  WALK 

are  really  and  truly  grateful,  you  may  be  able 
to  help  me!  I'll  tell  you  a  great  secret."  She 
drew  Barbara  close  to  her.  "  I  am  to  be  married 
to-morrow!" 

Barbara  screamed  aloud,  and  all  the  people 
in  the  Walk  turned  in  alarm. 

"Is  anything  the  matter.?"  enquired  Miss 
Ruth,  anxiously. 

"No,  no!"  said  Marjolaine,  laughing.  "Yes," 
she  went  on,  when  the  others  had  resumed  their 
conversation,  "married  secretly  to-morrow. 
Swear  you  won't  tell  anybody  if  you  live  to  be 
ninety!" 

"Yes!  oh,  yes!"  cried  Barbara,  hopping  from 
twig  to  twig.  (I  cannot  help  it:  she  really  was 
exactly  like  a  bird!)     "I  mean.  No!  oh,  no!" 

"And  you  must  be  bridesmaid!" 

Barbara's  face  expressed  rapture.  "Marjory ! " 
And  then  with  eager  curiosity,  "Who  is  it.'"' 

"Sh!"  whispered  Marjolaine.  She  pointed  to 
Doctor  Sternroyd's  house.    "There!" 

Barbara  was  genuinely  amazed.  She  had 
heard  of  May  and  December,  but  this  was  May 
of  this  year  and  December  of  the  year-before- 
last.  "  Not  Doctor  Sternroyd  ? "  she  asked  aghast. 

Marjolaine  burst  out  laughing.  "No,  no!" 
She  pointed  again  where  Jack  was  standing  be- 
hind the  curtain,  the  picture  of  misery.  "There! 
At  the  window!" 

Barbara   gazed   and   understood.     "Oh,   how 

207 


POMANDER     WALK 

lovely!"  she  cried,  alluding  to  the  romance  and 
secrecy. 

But,  of  course  Marjolaine  accepted  the  epithet 
for  Jack.  "Yes,  isn't  he?"  She  drew  Barbara 
to  the  elm.  "We  are  to  be  married  by  special 
licence. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Barbara. 

"  I  don't  know.  Doctor  Sternroyd  's  getting 
it.  It  lets  you  go  and  be  married  anywhere, 
whenever  you  like." 

"Heavenly!"  cried  Barbara.  "If  Doctor 
Johnson  teaches  Basil  what  I  've  taught  Doctor 
Johnson,  Doctor  Sternroyd  shall  get  me  a  licence, 
too." 

"Yes,"  said  Marjolaine,  "we'll  keep  him 
busy."  Then  she  turned  to  where  Basil  was 
gloomily  watching  them,  and  called,  "Mr. 
Basil!" 

Basil  hurried  forward  eagerly,  "Yes,  Miss 
Marjory?" 

"Barbara  is  not  feeling  very  well,"  said 
Marjolaine,  sympathetically;  and  immediately 
Barbara  looked  languishing  and  pathetic. 

"Heavens!"  cried  Basil  in  genuine  alarm, 
"Shall  I  play  to  her?" 

"Oh,  no!"  cried  Marjolaine,  innocently,  "it's 
not  so  bad  as  that.  But  it's  her  evening  hour 
with  Doctor  Johnson,  and  she  does  n't  feel  quite 
equal  to  it." 

Ruth    had    overheard    this    last    statement. 

208 


POMANDER     WALK 

"Why,  bless  her  heart!"  she  interrupted  tartly, 
"she  's  been  sitting  with  that  bird  all  day!" 

Barbara  lifted  great  reproachful  eyes  at  her. 
"Unkind  Ruth!    The  lonely  bird!" 

Marjolaine  went  on  rapidly,  addressing  Basil, 
"So  she  wondered  whether  you  would  take  her 
place  for  once." 

"Why,  of  course!"  cried  Basil.  "With  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  life!" 

Barbara  glanced  at  him  out  of  the  corner  of 
her  eye,  and  said  very  demurely,  "Oh,  but  you 
don't  know  what  you  may  hear." 

"Yes,"  exclaimed  Ruth,  sharply,  "he  swears 
horribly." 

"I'll  soothe  his  savage  breast!"  cried  Basil, 
enthusiastically.  "I'll  be  Orpheus  with  his 
Lute!    I  '11  play  the  Kreutzer  Sonata  to  him!" 

Barbara  turned  anxiously  to  Marjolaine:  this 
would  n't  do  at  all! 

"No!  no!"  cried  the  latter,  "just  let  him 
talk!    Just  let  him  talk!" 

But  Basil  was  already  inside  the  house.  Mar- 
jolaine and  Barbara  retired,  giggling,  into  the 
Gazebo,  where  they  sat  and  twittered  mutual 
confidences.  Ruth  joined  the  other  ladies,  who 
were  listening  to  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn.  The 
Admiral  was  leaning  out  of  his  upstair  window 
to  take  in  his  thrush. 

"Indeed,  yes,"  continued  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
"I  have  collected  the  witty  sayings  of  my  dis- 

209 


POMANDER    WALK 

tinguished  friends.  I  shall  make  a  book  of  them. 
A  small  quarto.  I  shall  call  it,  'Pearls'"  —  he 
caught  sight  of  the  Admiral  —  "'Pearls  before 
Swine.'"  The  Admiral  disappeared.  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn  proceeded,  "Did  I  tell  you  my  friend 
Sherry's  bonn  mott  about  the  weather.^" 

"Yes!  Oh,  yes!"  cried  all  three  ladies,  with 
alacrity,  and  fled  from  him,  leaving  him  abashed 
and  rather  offended.  He  saw  Barbara  in  the 
Gazebo,  and  brightened  up.  "Ah!  but  Miss 
Barbara  was  not  there!"  He  crossed  on  tip-toe, 
and,  much  to  her  alarm,  seized  her  by  the  arm 
and  dragged  her  to  the  elm.  "Imagine,  then," 
he  boomed,  condescendingly,  while  Barbara 
signalled  in  vain  to  Marjolaine  for  help,  "Imag- 
ine, then,  that  you  are  standing  —  ah  —  just 
where  you  are  standing;  and  I  am  Sheridan." 
Barbara  had  no  idea  of  what  he  was  talking 
about.  Had  he  suddenly  gone  mad.^  If  so,  was 
he  harmless.^  "You  remember  how  we  per- 
spired on  Saturday  evening.^"  "Oh!"  cried 
Barbara,  with  disgust.  "I  come  up  to  you  — 
so."  He  suited  the  action  to  the  word.  "I 
place  my  hand  familiarly  on  your  shoulder  — 
so  —  " 

"Really!"  cried  Barbara,  indignantly. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  explained.     "You  under- 
stand:  you  are  Sheridan  —  no;    I  am  Sheridan 
and  you  are  me.     And  I  —  that  is  Sheridan  — 
say  to  you  —  I  mean,  me  — '  Brooke,  my  boy — '  '* 

210 


POMANDER     WALK 

Jane,  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn's  pretty  maid,  came 
rushing  out  of  the  house.  She  was  in  a  flutter 
of  excitement;  also  she  was  in  a  dreadful  hurry 
—  and  here  was  her  master,  talking  to  a  lady! 

"'Brooke,  my  boy'"  —  repeated  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn,  leading  up  to  his  point. 

"Master—!  Master—!"  whispered  Jane, 
hoarsely. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  waved  her  away  impa- 
tiently. 

"'Brooke,  my  boy  — '"  he  repeated  for  the 
third  time.  But  Jane  was  tugging  at  his  coat- 
tails. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
peevishly.    "What  the  devil  is  \t?    Go  away!" 

Jane  clung  to  him  like  a  limpet.  "Master!" 
she  cried  again;  and  then,  putting  her  lips  close 
to  his  ear  and  covering  them  with  one  hand,  while 
with  the  other  she  pointed  frantically  to  the 
upstairs  window,  she  whispered  a  piece  of  news 
which  petrified  him  and  made  his  eyes  start  out 
of  his  head.  Then  she  ran  back  into  the  house 
as  quickly  as  she  had  come. 

"Eh.?  What.?"  he  cried,  in  great  perturbation. 
"There,  now!  — So  like  Selina!  Spoilt  the 
point  of  my  story!"  He  turned  to  the  utterly 
bewildered  Barbara,  with  half  a  mind  to  con- 
tinue his  anecdote,  but  thought  better  of  it, 
and  with  a  brusque,  "Excuse  me!"  dashed  head- 
long into  the  house. 

211 


POMANDER     WALK 

Madame,  who  had  been  quietly  conversing 
with  Mrs.  Poskett  and  Ruth,  came  to  Marjolaine. 
"I  think  I  shall  go  in.  Will  you  come,  Marjo- 
laine?" 

"Oh,  Maman,"  pleaded  Marjolaine,  "I  have 
so  much  to  say  to  Barbara!"  She  accompanied 
her  mother  to  their  gate. 

"You  are  so  feverish  —  so  unlike  yourself — ! 
You  are  not  going  to  be  indisposed.'"' 

Marjolaine  caught  sight  of  Jack  in  the  Doctor's 
study,  "Oh,  Maman!"  she  cried,  throwing  her 
arms  round  her  mother's  neck  and  kissing  her 
with  quite  unusual  ardour,  "I  am  so  well,  so 
well!  —  I  never  was  so  well!" 

Madame  looked  at  her  searchingly.  Could 
her  daughter  be  heartless.''  To  be  sure,  she 
herself  had  besought  her  to  forget  her  girlish 
love,  but  Marjolaine  had  forgotten  it  too  quickly. 
Madame  went  into  her  house  with  an  uneasy 
mind  and  a  troubled  countenance. 

Miss  Ruth  had  been  arguing  with  Mrs.  Pos- 
kett. "Well,"  she  said,  evidently  alluding  to 
the  Admiral,  "That's  what  I  should  do!  Bring 
him  to  his  knees." 

There  was  a  dangerous  glitter  in  Mrs.  Poskett's 
eyes  as  she  replied,  "I  brought  Poskett  to  his: 
why  should  n't  I  bring  Peter.?" 

"Strike  while  the  iron's  hot.  He  knows  we're 
all  disappointed  with  him,  and  he's  ashamed  of 
himself.    Now's  the  time,  when  he  ain't  sure  of 

212 


POMANDER    WALK 

himself.    Come  along  in.     Put  on  your  prettiest 
cap.    I'll  help  you." 

Just  as  they  were  at  Mrs.  Poskett's  gate  they 
saw  Doctor  Sternroyd  come  shuffling  round  the 
corner.  His  manner  was  furtive,  and  he  was 
burdened  with  a  variety  of  small  parcels. 

"Dear  me,  Doctor!  How  you  are  loaded!" 
cried  Miss  Ruth. 

The  antiquary  had  evidently  hoped  to  get 
home  unnoticed.  "Good  evening,  Ladies!"  he 
stammered,  in  confusion.  "Pray  excuse  me  if 
I  cannot  remove  my  hat." 

"And  not  books,  this  time."*"  said  Mrs.  Poskett. 

"No,  no,  no!"  cried  the  antiquary,  looking 
as  guilty  as  if  he  had  been  caught  carrying  stolen 
goods.  "Not  books.  Not  what  you  might  call 
books.  Just  parcels.  Simple  necessaries,  I  as- 
sure you."  He  made  a  wide  curve  in  order  not 
to  come  into  closer  contact  with  Ruth  and  Mrs. 
Poskett,  and  they  went  laughing  into  the  latter's 
house.  But  the  wide  curve  brought  him  up 
against  Marjolaine  and  Barbara,  who  had  come 
out  of  the  Gazebo.  "More  women!"  groaned 
the  Doctor;  and  before  either  of  them  had 
spoken  he  had  added  hastily,  "Simple  neces- 
saries, I  do  assure  you!" 

Barbara  hopped  up  to  him  eagerly.  She 
touched  all  the  parcels,  which  he  vainly  tried 
to  keep  out  of  her  reach.  "Doctor,"  she  said, 
eagerly,  "which  is  the  licence?" 

213 


POMANDER  WALK 

The  Doctor  was  utterly  taken  aback.  "Eh? 
Oh,  dear!  dear!    Miss  Marjory,  you  told  her!" 

"Of  course,"  said  Marjory.  "She's  my  dear- 
est friend!" 

"Tut,  tut!  —  Dear,  dear!  —  What  says  the 
Swan  of  Avon?  'Who  was't  betrayed  the 
Capitol?  —  A  woman!'" 

Jack  had  opened  the  window  and  now  leant 
out  and  said  in  a  ghastly  whisper,  "Doctor!  — 
For  Heaven's  sake  look  sharp  with  the  victuals!" 

"There,  there!"  cried  the  flustered  Doctor, 
as  he  shuffled  on  into  the  house,  "the  cuckoo 
in  the  nest!" 

At  the  same  instant  Mr.  Basil  Pringle  came 
bounding  out  of  the  Misses  Pennymint's  house, 
shouting,  "Miss  Barbara!" 

Barbara  leant  half-swooning  against  Marjo- 
laine.    "  Oh !  —  he 's  coming ! " 

"Oh,  Miss  Barbara!"  repeated  Basil,  breath- 
lessly. 

"Has  Doctor  Johnson  bitten  you?"  asked 
Marjolaine,  mischievously. 

"Oh,  that  gifted  bird!"  exclaimed  Basil, 
rapturously. 

"Did  he  speak?"  asked  Marjolaine,  while 
Barbara  panted  expectant. 

"Speak!  —  Ah!  —  "     Basil  had  no  words. 

Doctor  Sternroyd's  window  was  violently 
thrown  open  by  Jack.  It  was  nearly  dark  in  the 
Walk,  and  Jack  was  reckless.     "Marjory!"  he 

214 


POMANDER  WALK 

called.    Marjory  was  very  much  startled.    Any- 
body might  come  out  at  any  moment. 

"Oh!  take  care!"  she  cried,  as  she  ran  up  to 
within  whispering  distance  of  him. 

Barbara,  with  bent  head  and  blushing  cheeks 
was  trying  to  keep  Basil  to  the  point.  "What 
did  he  say,  Mr.  Basil.?" 

•  "Come  closer!"  whispered  Jack  to  Marjolaine, 
and  after  assuring  herself  that  no  one  was  looking, 
she  crept  inside  the  little  garden. 

Basil  came  impulsively  towards  Barbara. 
"Shall  I  tell  you.?  Dare  I  tell  you.?"  he  asked 
passionately,  yet  shyly. 

"You  know  best,"  said  Barbara,  making  an 
invisible  pattern  on  the  grass  with  her  dainty 
foot. 

Basil  took  his  courage  in  both  hands.  "He 
said  —  it  was  all  in  one  breath  —  He  said,  'O- 
burn-your-lungs-and-liver-you-lubberly-son-of-a- 
lop-eared- weevil- tell-Barbara-you-love-her ! ' " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Basil!"  sighed  Barbara,  and  threw 
herself  headlong  into  his  arms. 

"But  it's  true!  —  It's  true!"  he  cried  enthu- 
siastically. "Come!  let  me  tell  you  my  own 
way!"  And  without  more  ado,  he  picked  her  up 
and  carried  her  bodily  into  the  Gazebo. 

"It's  perfectly  monstrous!"  Jack  was  explain- 
ing angrily  to  Marjolaine,  who  was  now  under 
his  window.  "The  old  fossil 's  brought  two  eggs, 
a  red  herring,  and  a  pot  of  currant  jelly!" 

215 


POMANDER    WALK 

"Poor  Jack!"  exclaimed  Marjolaine  sympa- 
thetically, yet  with  a:  note  of  laughter  in  her 
voice. 

"Is  that  rations  for  a  grown  man?"  asked 
Jack  pathetically.  "Says  he'll  make  an  ome- 
lette!   Two  eggs!    An  omelette!    Ho!" 

Here  the  Eyesore  crept  cautiously  back  to  his 
post.  He  had  not  dared  come  in  broad  day- 
light, but  now  that  It  was  nearly  dark  he  hoped 
he  would  be  unobserved. 

From  the  Gazebo  came  the  voices  of  the  other 
lovers  In  long-drawn  notes. 

"My  own!  "  said  Basil,  In  a  stupendous  bass. 

"My  Basil!"  echoed  Barbara. 

Rapture.    Oblivion.    An  endless  embrace. 

"Can't  you  send  that  object  for  food.'"'  said 
Jack,  pointing  to  the  Eyesore. 

"I  daren't  speak  to  him,"  answered  Mar- 
jolaine, with  a  little  shiver  of  dislike.  "He 
always  turns  out  to  be  somebody  else.  Jack! 
if  you  '11  be  good,  I  '11  get  it  myself!" 

"Angel!    But  make  haste!    I  'm  starving!" 

"If  you  hear  me  singing,  look  out  of  the 
window,"  whispered  Marjolaine,  kissing  her 
hand  to  him.  And  with  that  she  ran  lightly  into 
her  own  house,  and  Jack  retired  to  wait  with 
what  patience  he  could  muster. 

"And  now,  what  is  the  next  thing  to  do.^"' 
asked  Basil,  rising  and  leading  Barbara  towards 
the  house. 

2l6 


POMANDER     WALK 

"We  must  tell  Ruth,"  said  Barbara,  with  a 
sound  practical  idea  of  clinching  the  matter. 
There  should  be  no  mistake  this  time. 

*'Yes!  at  once!"  cried  Basil,  nobly.  "Oh!" 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  burst  of  grateful  sentiment, 
"I  '11  buy  Doctor  Johnson  a  golden  chain!" 

Barbara's  pretty  head  was  reposing  aflFec- 
tionately  on  his  shoulder.  "And  I  '11  wear  it  for 
him.    The  dear  bird." 

"The  dear,  dear  bird!"  they  repeated  in  me- 
lodious unison. 

Not  otherwise  did  Romeo  and  Juliet  breathe 
soft  nothings  in  the  gardens  of  Verona.  Not 
otherwise  did  Paolo  and  Francesca  talk  exqui- 
site nonsense  when  they  had  very  injudiciously 
left  off  reading.  Not  otherwise  —  but  why 
pursue  the  subject?  You  and  I  have  been  just 
as  happy,  and  just  as  foolish. 

Ruth  brought  Mrs.  Poskett,  resplendent  in  a 
new  cap  and  various  other  seductive  devices, 
out  of  the  house.  Barbara  fluttered  to  her  sister. 
"Dear  Ruth!  Come  in  quickly!  Basil  and  I 
have  such  news  for  you!" 

Ruth  saw  it  at  a  glance.  At  last  they  had 
shed  one  form  of  idiocy  to  take  on  another. 
Now,  perhaps,  she  would  enjoy  a  little  peace. 
"Very  well,"  she  said.  Then  she  made  a  low 
curtsey  to  Mrs.  Poskett,  and  said,  meaningly, 
"Courage  —  Lady  Antrobus!" 

Alas,  poor  Admiral!    The  knell  of  thy  freedom 

217 


POMANDER    WALK 

has  sounded.  Shut  thyself  in  thy  house  as  thou 
wilt:  close  thy  shutters;  make  fast  thy  doors; 
yea,  train  the  little  brass  cannon  on  the  Walk: 
nothing  will  help.  Thy  fair  enemy  is  cruising 
at  the  harbour's  mouth,  with  pennons  flaunting 
to  the  breeze,  and  all  her  deadly  armoury  of 
sighs,  tears,  threats,  reproaches  and  languish- 
ing glances  made  ready  for  action;  and  nothing 
thou  canst  do  will  serve.  Through  long  years 
thou  hast  sailed  light-heartedly  from  many  ports, 
leaving  broken,  or,  at  any  rate,  damaged  hearts 
behind  thee.  Now  the  Hour  of  Retribution  has 
struck,  and  the  Avenger  is  here.  Thy  day  of 
conquests  is  past,  and  it  is  thou  who  wilt  be  led 
captive  in  chains  of  roses.  There  is  none  to  sym- 
pathise with  thee.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  my  firm 
conviction  that  the  whole  Walk  will  hang  out 
banners  to  celebrate  thy  defeat. 


218 


y^^i      CHAPTER  XIII 

'1        h 


IN    WHICH    ADMIRAL 
SIR    PETER    ANTROBUS 
IS    MORE    THAN    EVER 
DETERMINED   TO 
ITRE    THE 
LITTLE 
BRASS     GUN 


MRS.  POSKETT  found  herself  — if  you 
did  not  count  the  Eyesore:  and  no- 
body ever  had  counted  him,  yet  — 
alone  in  the  Walk.  The  sun  had  set,  and  the 
evening  twilight  itself  had  almost  merged  into 
night.  The  river  gleamed  a  pale  green,  as  if 
it  were  loath  to  surrender  the  last  remnant  of 
day.  It  was  a  propitious  hour  for  amorous 
dalliance,  but  Mrs.  Poskett  felt  she  had  much 
to  do  ere  she  could  hope  to  be  engaged  in  any 
such  pleasant  pastime.  She  sat  some  moments 
under  the  elm  considering  her  position.  She 
was  face  to  face  with  a  difficult  problem.  Here 
she  was,  under  the  elm,  and  there  was  Sir  Peter, 
safely  barricaded  in  his  own  house.  That  he 
was  not  in  a  good  humour  she  knew.  The  house 
looked  forbidding.    The  door  was  tightly  closed. 

219 


POMANDER     WALK 

The  windows  were  shut,  and  the  bHnds  drawn. 
Somewhere  behind  those  drawn  bhnds  the  Ad- 
miral was  fuming.  She  yearned  to  hold  his  hand 
and  comfort  him  and  soothe  his  feelings,  wounded, 
as  well  she  knew,  by  the  sneers  and  open  mutiny 
of  the  Walk.  But  how  to  get  at  him.?  She  could 
not  go  to  his  house.  She  could  not  call  him.  All 
the  conventions  and  proprieties  rose  up  like  an 
impregnable  wall  against  either  of  those  courses. 
And  even  if  she  called  him,  he  would  not  come. 
On  the  contrary,  he  would  retire  like  Hamlet  to 
some  more  remote  part  of  his  ramparts,  and  pre- 
tend he  had  n't  heard  her.  She  must  employ  some 
stratagem.  But  what  stratagem.?  Pomander 
Walk  was  not  a  good  nursery  for  stratagems, 
she  thought,  little  knowing  how  many  plots  and 
schemes  and  conspiracies  had  been  concocted 
and  were  still  seething  all  around  her. 

She  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  in  despair 
when  she  caught  sight  of  the  Eyesore.  She 
looked  at  his  back  —  which  was  all  she  could  see 
of  him  —  and  brooded  a  long  time.  At  last  she 
rose  and  stole  over  to  him  on  tip-toe.  She  felt 
for  a  coin  in  the  little  bead-embroidered  bag 
that  hung  from  her  wrist.  Two  or  three  times 
she  opened  her  mouth  as  if  about  to  speak,  but 
each  time  she  closed  it  again  upon  the  unspoken 
word.     Finally,  however,  she  made  up  her  mind. 

"My  good  man,"  she  said,  rather  conde- 
scendingly. 

220 


POMANDER    WALK 

The  Eyesore  never  stirred.  She  might  as  well 
have  addressed  one  of  the  chain-posts.  She 
tried  again:  this  time  a  trifle  more  urbanely. 
"Mister!—" 

A  sort  of  wave  of  acknowledgment  ran  down 
the  back  of  the  Eyesore's  coat,  just  as  a  horse 
shivers  at  the  touch  of  a  fly;  but  that  was  all. 
She  made  one  more  eflfort:  now  with  a  courteous 
appeal.  ''Sir! —  You  threw  Sempronius  into 
the  river  on  Saturday  —  here's  a  crown  for 
you." 

I  cannot  explain  what  connection  there  was  in 
her  mind  between  the  crime  and  the  reward, 
except  that  in  some  confused  way  she  considered 
the  former  as  a  sort  of  introduction  entitling  her 
to  address  him. 

The  Eyesore  only  put  his  hand  behind  his 
back  with  the  open  palm  upward.  When  Mrs. 
Poskett  had  dropped  the  huge  coin  into  it,  he 
brought  it  slowly  round,  bit  it,  spat  on  it,  and 
pocketed  it.  But  he  said  no  word.  Mrs. 
Poskett  proceeded  hastily,  indicating  the  Ad- 
miral's house.  "Now  I  want  you  to  knock  at 
that  door." 

The  Eyesore  followed  the  direction  of  her  finger 
with  a  bleary  eye.  What!  He  knock  at  the  door 
of  his  enemy  and  persecutor!  and  be  captured 
by  him!  That  was  her  little  game,  was  it.''  And 
she  thought  to  lure  him  to  his  doom  with  a  miser- 
able bait  of  five  shillings.     But  he'd  show  her! 

221 


POMANDER  WALK 

To  Mrs.  Poskett's  amazement,  alarm,  and  ad- 
miration, he  picked  up  a  stone,  hurled  it  with 
unerring  aim  at  the  door,  and  incontinently 
bolted  round  the  corner.  Mrs.  Poskett  fled 
behind  the  elm  and  awaited  the  upshot  with  a 
beating  heart. 

Jim  appeared,  red-faced,  at  the  door.  He 
looked  up  and  down  the  Walk,  but  seeing  it 
empty,  muttered,  "Cuss  them  boys!"  and  was 
turning  to  go  in  again,  when  Mrs.  Poskett  called 
him. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Jim,"  she  said,  in  her 
blandest  tones. 

"'Evening,  mum!"  answered  Jim,  touching 
his  forelock.  "Them  boys  ought  to  be  drownded, 
is  what  I  says;  and  I  wish  I  had  the  doing 
of  it." 

"You  have  a  responsible  post,  Mr.  Jim." 

"Ay,    ay,     mum.     Bosun    o'    the    x^dmiral's 

gig." 

"Oh,  more  than  that,  Mr.  Jim.    Chief  officer, 

and  cook,  and  gardener  —  what   lovely  peas!" 

It  was  much  too  dark  to  see  the  peas,  but  she 

knew  they  grew  all  around  Jim's  heart. 

"Ah,"  he  assented,  and  added  with  meaning, 
"takes  a  oncommon  lot  o'  moistenin',  though." 

"It  is  thirsty  weather,  Mr.  Jim."  Mrs. 
Poskett  was  searching  in  her  bag  again. 

Jim's  eyes  gleamed.  "And  a  truer  word  you 
never  spoke.  Lady." 

222 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Mr.  Bosun,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  Insidiously, 
"I  want  to  see  the  Admiral." 

Jim  shook  his  head  gloomily.  "Ah!  'tis  dirty 
weather  he's  makin'  of  it,  sure  'nough.  He've 
a-locked  hisself  in  by  hisself  if  you'll  believe  me; 
an'  he's  a-swearin'  somethin'  'orrible  for  to  'ear!" 

"Mr.  Bosun,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  holding  up  a 
beautiful,  bright  new  crown-piece  between  her 
finger  and  thumb,  "would  five  shillings  quench 
your  thirst.^" 

Jim  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand. 
"Well,  Lady,  I  can't  say  but  'twould  take  the 
edge  off  it." 

To  his  disgust,  Mrs.  Poskett  retreated  a  step. 
"But  I  must  see  Sir  Peter." 

Jim  scratched  his  head  —  which  was  his  way 
of  expressing  deep  reflection.  He  caught  sight 
of  the  Admiral's  flag  hanging  motionless.  "I've 
got  it!"  he  cried.  "Sheer  off  a  cable's  length, 
Lady." 

Mrs.  Poskett'  retired  to  the  extreme  end  of  the 
Walk.  Jim  made  a  speaking-trumpet  of  both 
hands  and  bellowed,  "Admiral,  ahoy!" 

The  Admiral's  window  went  up  so  suddenly, 
the  Admiral's  head  shot  out  so  abruptly,  and  his 
voice  was  so  fierce,  that  Mrs.  Poskett  could  not 
suppress  a  little  scream. 

"D'ye  want  to  wake  the  dead?"  roared  the 
Admiral. 

"Axing  your  pardon,  Admiral  —  sunset." 

223 


POMANDER  WALK 

"What  of  it,  you  lubber?"  The  Admiral 
was  quite  unaware  of  Mrs.  Poskett's  presence, 
or  I  am  sure  he  would  not  have  used  such 
an  expression. 

"Shall  I  haul  the  flag  down,  Admiral.'^"  asked 
Jim,  with  well-feigned  astonishment. 

You  may  judge  of  what  the  Admiral  had  gone 
through  from  the  fact  that  this  was  the  first 
time  in  recorded  history  he  had  neglected  to 
perform  this,  ritual. 

"On  your  life!"  he  cried,  in  great  agitation. 
"I've  hoisted  It  and  struck  it  with  my  own 
hands,  morning  and  night,  any  time  these  five 
years.  D'  ye  think  I'll  have  a  lubberly  son  of  a 
sea-cook  like  you  do  It  now?" 

He  vanished  from  his  window  as  abruptly  as 
he  had  appeared.  Jim  hobbled  towards  Mrs. 
Poskett.    "Got  him.  Lady!"  he  chuckled. 

Mrs.  Poskett  handed  him  the  coin.  "Here, 
and  thank  you." 

"Thank  you,  mum." 

Sir  Peter  appeared  at  the  door.  Unfortunately 
he  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Poskett.  He  retreated, 
half-closed  the  door,  and  only  showed  his  head 
through  the  opening. 

"Jim!"  he  cried. 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!" 

"Haul  it  down  yourself." 

Mrs.  Poskett  gave  a  cry  of  disappointment. 
Had  she  spent  ten  shillings  in  vain  f* 

224 


POiMANDER     WALK 

But  Jim  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  His 
voice  was  a  beautiful  blend  of  pathos  and 
wounded  dignity.  "No,  Admiral.  Not  after 
what  passed  your  lips." 

"Damme!  I  can't  leave  it  hoisted  all  night!" 
roared  the  Admiral. 

"That's  as  mebbe,"  said  Jim,  beginning  to 
stump  off.  "Even  the  lubberly  son  of  a  sea- 
cook  'as  'is  feelin's,  same  as  them  wot 's  'igher 
placed."    And  he  stumped  round  the  corner. 

"Here!  Jim!"  roared  the  Admiral,  in  dis- 
tress and  fury.  "Come  back!  you  mutinous 
scoundrel!"     But  Jim  was  gone. 

What  was  the  Admiral  to  do.^*  Was  he  to 
leave  the  flag  up,  contrary  to  all  precedent.'* 
That  was  unthinkable.  On  the  other  hand  was 
he  to  offer  himself  as  a  target  for  Mrs.  Poskett's 
sarcasms?  Yet  again,  was  he  to  show  the  white 
feather  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy.''  No! 
He'd  be  hanged  if  he  would.  He  slapped  him- 
self on  the  chest  to  give  himself  courage,  and 
came  down  the  steps.  "Cheer  up,  my  hearty!" 
he  cried;  and  then  he  hummed  what  he 
thought  was  the  tune  of  "Oh!  dear!  what  can 
the  matter  be.^"  and  began  hauling  down  the 
flag. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Poskett  had  sidled  casually 
along  the  railings,  as  if  she  were  going  nowhere 
in  particular  and  did  n't  mind  when  she  got  there. 
But  she  timed  herself  carefully,  so  that  she  was 

225 


POMANDER     WALK 

close  to  Sir  Peter  just  as  he  was  entangled  in  the 
lines. 

"Admiral!"  she  said,  very  gently. 

"Ma'am.'*"  growled  he,  continuing  to  extri- 
cate himself. 

"Why  do  you  force  me  to  address  you.^"  she 
asked  reproachfully,  and  with  great  dignity. 

Sir  Peter  was  taken  aback.  "Mel  Force 
you!  Gobblessmysoul!"  he  exclaimed,  "Well, 
I'm—" 

"For  your  own  good,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett, 
solemnly.  "Oh,  Sir  Peter,  you  was  King  of  the 
Walk  on  Friday.  Now  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn 
will  usurp  that  title." 

This  fetched  him.  He  left  the  flag  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  mast,  and  came  out  into  the 
open.    "Will  he  so,  Ma'am!"  he  said,  fiercely. 

"So  he  will!"  Having  enticed  him  from 
behind  the  security  of  his  railings,  Mrs.  Poskett 
knew  he  would  follow  wherever  she  led  him. 
She  led  him  at  once  towards  the  elm. 

"The  Walk  says  you  have  lowered  the  prestige 
of  His  Majesty's  Navy." 

The  Admiral  had  indeed  turned  to  go  back; 
but  this  brought  him  to  her  side.  "Dash  it 
and  hang  it.  Ma'am!  what  do  you  mean.'"' 

"Well,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Mrs. 
Poskett,  with  pretty  confusion.  "The  entire 
Walk  saw  you  press  me  to  your  heart!" 

The  Admiral  was  helpless.     His  own  recollec- 

226 


POMANDER     WALK 

tions  of  what  had  happened  on  Saturday  were 
extremely  vague.  What  with  the  rescue  of  the 
cat  and  the  sudden  appearance  of  CaroHne 
Thring,  together  with  the  subsequent  escape 
of  Jack,  he  had  lost  all  sense  of  actualities. 
Moreover,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  accuse 
Mrs.  Poskett  of  having  embraced  him.  A 
gentleman  does  not  do  such  things.  So  he  could 
only  stammer  weakly,  "I  didn't,  did  I.'"' 

Mrs.  Poskett  flashed  at  him  indignantly. 
*'The  entire  Walk  witnessed  the  outrage,  and 
the  entire  Walk  is  indignant  that  nothing  has 
come  of  it." 

"Gobblessmysoul!"    muttered    the    Admiral. 

Mrs.  Poskett  followed  up  her  advantage. 
'"Oh,  how  unsailor-likc!'"  —  that  is  what  the 
Walk  says:  'How  unsailor-like!  '  " 

Imagine  the  stab.  He,  Admiral  Sir  Peter 
Antrobus,  with  more  than  forty  years  of  service 
in  His  Majesty's  Navy  to  his  credit;  the  hero  of 
Copenhagen;  the  friend  of  Nelson;  he,  who  had 
given  an  eye  for  his  country  —  unsailor-like! 

He  pushed  his  wig  back  and  mopped  his 
brow.  "It  does  n't  say  that!"  he  murmured, 
horrified. 

But  Mrs.  Poskett  was  mercilessly  emphatic. 
"It  says  that."  Then  she  steered  on  another 
tack.  "I  'm  only  a  lone  widow,"  she  said,  with 
an  air  of  martyrdom.  "If  Alderman  Poskett 
were  alive,  he  'd  see  you  did  the  right  thing  by 

227 


POMANDER  WALK 

his  wife.    But  I!  —  I  must  leave  my  once  happy 
home!" 

"But  —  dash  it  and  hang  it — !"  protested 
Sir  Peter,  struggling  in  the  web  that  was  being 
woven  around  him. 

"You  cannot  alter  facts  by  swearing,"  said 
the  widow.  "Can  I  bear  the  sneers  of  a  Penny- 
mint.^  the  arched  eyebrows  of  a  Brooke-Hoskyn.' 
I  cannot.  I  must  let  my  beautiful  house," 
with  a  side  glance  at  him  and  considerable  stress, 
"my  freehold  house.  Let  it  to  an  undesirable 
tenant:  a  person  with  a  mangle." 

A  mangle  in  Pomander  Walk!  "Gobbless- 
mysoul!  "  said  the  Admiral.  Also  he  had  been 
set  thinking.     Freehold,  eh.'* 

"To  be  sure,  the  expense  of  moving  is  noth- 
ing," proceeded  Mrs.  Poskett,  airily,  "when  one 
has  Four-hundred  a  year  in  the  Funds.  But  oh! 
my  lovely  furniture  will  be  chipped!  and,  oh! 
how  shall  I  part  from  my  friends.''" 

The  Admiral  was  moved.  He  was  undeniably 
moved.  A  freehold  house,  Four-hundred  a  year 
in  the  Funds,  and  lovely  furniture,  —  And, 
mind  you,  the  widow  was  buxom;  he  himself  had 
described  her  as  a  "Dam  fine  woman."  As  she 
stood  there  in  tearful  confusion,  she  looked  dis- 
tinctly agreeable;  plump  and  comfortable.  To 
be  sure,  the  sun  had  gone  down. 

"But  it 's  not  so  bad  as  that.?"  said  the  Ad- 
miral, with  something  approaching  sympathy. 

228 


POMANDER  WALK 

"It's  worse!"  cried  Mrs.  Poskett.  "And 
that  innocent  cat,  Sempronius! — What  will  he 
say?  He  took  a  chill  on  Saturday  and  he  's 
lying  before  the  kitchen  fire  wrapped  up  in  a  piece 
of  flannel.  When  I  move,  the  change  will  kill 
him.  Oh,  why  did  n't  you  leave  him  to  drown.'*" 
she  sobbed  aloud. 

The  Admiral  was  much  stirred.  A  woman's 
tears  always  bowled  him  over.  He  could  stand 
anything  but  that. 

"Dash  it  and  hang  it,  Ma'am,  don't  cry!" 

"It  isn't  as  if  I  was  older,"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Poskett.  "I  could  be  much  older!  But  I'm 
young  enough  to  have  a  tender  heart!"  She 
mastered  herself  with  an  heroic  effort;  swallowed 
her  sobs;  drove  back  her  tears;  and  stood  before 
him,  the  picture  of  stoic  calm,  of  noble  resigna- 
tion.   "But  never  mind!    I  will  be  brave!    You 

—  you  —  shall  —  not  —  see  —  me  —  weep!" 
Then  she  howled. 

Sir  Peter  was  indescribably  distressed.     "But 

—  Gobblessmysoul!  —  "  he  stammered  —  "what 
am  I  to  do  with  Jim,  and  the  flagstaflF,  and  the 
brass  gun,  and  the  thrush,  and  the  sweet  peas.'*" 
and,  pointing  to  his  house,  "What  am  I  to  do 
with  Number  One.''" 

Mrs.  Poskett  raised  one  tear-bedewed  eye 
from  her  handkerchief.  "Knock  a  door  through 
and  make  one  house  of  them!"  she  exclaimed, 
as  if  sweeping  away  an  absurdity.     "Oh,  these 

229 


POMANDER     WALK 

paltry  details!"  Then  she  lifted  her  face  to  his 
with  a  smile.  Thus  does  the  sun  look  when  it 
emerges  from  behind  a  rain-cloud.  "Sweet 
peas.^  What  could  be  more  appropriate.'*  Ain't 
I  Pamela  Poskett.''  and  ain't  you  Peter.'"' 

The  tearful  smile,  so  winsome,  so  appeal- 
ing, was  irresistible.  "Damme,  you  're  right!" 
cried  the  Admiral,  surrendering  at  discretion, 
"You've  swept  me  fore  and  aft!  You've  blown 
me  out  of  the  sea!  By  George,  Ma'am,  I  '11 
marry  you  if  you  '11  have  me!" 

Once  more,  as  when  he  saved  her  cat,  Mrs. 
Poskett  threw  her  conifortable  arms  round  Sir 
Peter's  neck.  "I  '11  have  you,  Peter,"  she  cried 
joyfully;  and  she  added  in  a  tone  which  clinched 
the  matter,  "I've  got  you!" 

There  was  an  eloquent  silence.  The  old  elm 
shook  its  leaves  with  a  ripple  of  laughter.  It 
had  seen  many  things  in  its  long  life,  but  never 
anything  so  epically  grand  as  the  widow's 
victory  and  the  Admiral's  surrender.  Troy 
town  was  besieged  in  vain  during  ten  long  years, 
and  was  then  only  conquered  by  a  horse. 
Five  years  Mrs.  Poskett  had  besieged  Sir  Peter 
and  her  victory  was  due  to  a  cat.  You  seize 
the  analogy.^  When  you  remember,  further, 
that  Basil  had  been  inveigled  by  a  parrot,  you 
will  realise  the  danger  —  or  utility,  according 
to  your  point  of  view  —  of  keeping  domestic 
pets:  the  undoubted  risk  of  having  any  commerce 

230 


POMANDER     WALK 

with  other  peoples'  domestic  pets  —  especially 
if  they  are  Greeks  or  widows.  I  mean,  the 
people. 

The  Admiral  was  conquered,  and  like  a  gentle- 
man, he  made  the  best  of  his  defeat.  That  is 
the  way  to  turn  it  into  a  moral  victory.  "I  '11 
haul  out  the  brass  gun  and  fire  it  to-night!" 
he  cried,  enthusiastically.  "That'll  tell  the 
Walk!" 

"I'll  tell  the  Walk!"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  mask- 
ing her  quite  legitimate  triumph  under  renewed 
endearments. 

They  say  drowning  men  see  all  their  past  lives 
in  a  flash.  As  the  Admiral  felt  Mrs.  Poskett's 
arms  tighten  round  his  neck,  he  had  a  similar  ex- 
perience. All  the  eyes  he  had  ever  looked  into 
seemed  to  be  gazing  reproachfully  at  him  out 
of  the  darkness;  all  the  names  he  had  ever 
whispered  seemed  now  to  be  whispering  in  his 
ear.  Dolores,  Inez,  Mariette,  Suzette,  Paquita, 
Frederike,  Jette,  Karen  —  I  know  not  how 
many  more  —  like  a  swarm  of  bees  they  buzzed 
around  him.  Then,  too,  he  suddenly  remembered 
that  upstairs  in  his  old  sailor's  chest;  the  chest 
that  had  accompanied  him  all  over  the  world, 
there  was  a  splendid  and  varied  assortment  of 
locks  of  hair:  black,  brown,  golden,  auburn, 
frankly  red,  straw-coloured,  chestnut,  and  one 
off  which  the  dye  had  faded  and  shown  it  un- 
compromisingly grey.     He   must   remember  to 

231 


POMANDER  WALK 

destroy  them  before  —  well,  before  the  door 
was  knocked  through. 

What  escapes  he  had  had!  What  a  mercy  he 
had  not  married  that  fiery  Spaniard;  that  still 
more  blazing  Brazilian;  that  fickle  Portuguese; 
that  frivolous  Mam'selle;  that  straw-coloured 
Dane,  He  began  to  realise  that  Mrs.  Poskett 
was,  like  the  Walk  itself,  a  Harbour  of  Refuge. 
Here  was  no  rhapsodical  nonsense,  but  safe 
comfort,  with  a  freehold  house,  solid  furniture, 
and  Four-hundred  a  year.  Almost  uncon- 
sciously his  arms  closed  round  her.  She  gave 
a  great,  contented  sigh,  as  her  head  sank  on  his 
shoulder.  To  have  drawn  this  response  from 
him  was,  indeed,  victory!  I  wonder  what  she 
would  have  done  if  she  could  have  read  his 
thoughts,  if  she  could  have  seen  the  long  proces- 
sion of  seductive  females  that  was  passing  across 
his  mental  vision.  I  am  convinced  that  the 
prospective  title  would  have  consoled  her,  and 
that  she  would  have  accepted  his  past  for  the 
sake  of  her  future. 

They  were  abruptly  aroused  from  their  hap- 
piness, however.  Unperceived  by  them,  Lord 
Otford  had  entered  the  Walk.  He  had  come 
slowly  along  the  crescent,  examining  each  house 
in  turn,  evidently  trying  to  make  up  his  mind 
to  knock  at  one  of  them.  He  retraced  his  steps 
and  had  his  hand  on  the  handle  of  the  Admiral's 
gate,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  the 

232 


ui 

< 
Q 

< 
u 

Q 

» 


Pi 


POMANDER    WALK 

sound  of  murmuring  voices.  Evidently  the 
voices  of  lovers.  Quickly  and  angrily  he  came 
down,  just  in  time  to  witness  the  Admiral  Im- 
plant a  chaste  but  conclusive  salute  on  Mrs. 
Poskett's  ample  brow. 

"Peter!"  he  cried,  scandalised. 


233 


CHAPTER    XIV 


IN  WHICH  MISS 

BARBARA  PENNYMINT 

HEARS  THE 

NIGHTINGALE, 

AND  THE  LAMPS 

ARE    LIGHTED 

THE  Admiral  tried  to  start  away  from  Mrs. 
Poskett,  but  though  her  hands  sHpped 
from  his  neck  they  clung  to  his  arm. 
"Gobblessmysoul!  Lord  Otford!"  he  cried. 

Mrs.  Poskett  had  a  delicious  foretaste  of 
future  greatness.  Here,  at  the  very  threshold 
of  her  betrothal,  was  a  real,  live  lord.  It  was 
well  worth  all  she  had  been  through.  "Present 
me,  Peter,"  she  whispered,  "and  tell  him." 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  tell  an  old  friend  you  are 
going  to  be  married,  when  you  yourself  are  old 
enough  to  know  better.  The  Admiral  made  a 
bad  job  of  it.  "Um  —  my  neighbour  —  Mrs. 
Poskett  —  "  he  mumbled,  weakly. 

"Widow   of   Alderman    Poskett,"    she    broke 
And  if  Poskett  had  n't  died  when  he  did  — " 

234 


in. 


POMANDER    WALK 

The  Admiral  cut  her  short.  He  presented 
his  friend  to  her.  "Um  —  Lord  Otford  —  " 
then  he  tried  bravely  to  explain  the  equivocal 
attitude  in  which  they  had  been  discovered. 
"Urn  —  I  am  —  she  is  —  we  are  —  "  He  broke 
down  under  Otford's  eye. 

For  Otford  was  looking  at  him  In  a  confounded 
quizzical  way,  as  much  as  to  say  "Do  all  the 
neighbours  in  Pomander  Walk  come  out  and 
kiss  in  the  dark?"  So  the  Admiral  turned 
crestfallen  to  Mrs.  Poskett,  "No,  hang  it! 
You  tell  him!" 

Mrs.  Poskett  was  quite  equal  to  the  occasion. 
She  made  Lord  Otford  a  magnificent  curtsey, 
just  as  she  had  curtseyed  to  the  Lord  Mayor's 
Lady,  years  ago.  "Happy  to  meet  any  friend 
of  my  future  husband,"  she  said,  with  charming 
condescension. 

Lord  Otford  responded  to  her  curtsey  with 
an  equally  elaborate  bow.  "Am  I  to  under- 
stand —  ?" 

"Yes,  Jack,"  interposed  Sir  Peter,  impatiently, 
"understand.  Understand  without  further 
palaver." 

Lord  Otford  bowed  again.  "My  felicita- 
tions," said  he.  Mrs.  Poskett  had  expected  more; 
but  Lord  Otford  was  evidently  preoccupied, 
and  abruptly  changed  the  subject.  "Madam, 
can  you  spare  him  a  little  while.''" 

Mrs.   Poskett  was  much   put  out.     Was  she 

235 


POMANDER    WALK 

to  be  thrust  aside  so  unceremoniously  in  the 
first  flush  of  her  triumph?  She  bridled,  and 
answered  with  some  asperity,  "I  am  sure  no 
real  friend  of  Sir  Peter's  would  wish  to  tell  him 
anything  his  future  wife  may  not  hear." 

Lord  Otford  recognised  he  had  made  a  tactical 
mistake.  He  seized  one  of  her  plump  hands, 
kissed  it,  and  explained  with  an  air  of  the 
greatest  consideration,  "I  assure  you,  Ma'am, 
the  matter  is  strictly  personal  to  myself." 

How  could  any  lady  resist  such  delightful 
manners.?  Mrs.  Poskett  melted  at  once.  She 
shook  a  playful  finger  at  him.  "Naughty  Lord 
Otford!"  —  she  turned  to  the  Admiral  —  "Well, 
Peter;  I  '11  wait  at  the  gate.  But  not  more  than 
five  minutes,  mind!"  And  with  a  roguish  shake 
of  all  her  curls  and  all  her  ribbons  she  tripped 
up  to  the  Admiral's  gate,  where  she  stood  plan- 
ning how  his  house  and  hers  were  to  be  turned 
into  one,  and  how  the  sweet  pea  was  to  be 
trained  over  both,  at  the  same  time  striving 
to  hear  as  much  as  possible  of  what  the  two 
friends  were  saying. 

"Peter!"  exclaimed  Lord  Otford,  as  soon 
as  she  was  out  of  earshot,  "Jack  's  disappeared!" 

The  Admiral's  conscience  smote  him  uneasily. 
He  knew  the  rascally  Jack  was  in  Doctor  Stern- 
royd's  house;  he  himself  had  helped  to  get  him 
there;  and  here  was  the  unfortunate  father, 
his  own  bosom  friend,  in  distress.    What  was  he 

236 


POMANDER    WALK 

to  do?  Betray  Jack?  Impossible.  No.  He 
would  see  the  matter  through.  At  any  rate,  he 
would  gain  time. 

"  Serves  you  right,"  he  growled. 

Lord  Otford  was  deeply  hurt.  "Did  I  say, 
'  Serves  you  right,'  just  now?" 

"Just  now?"  repeated  Sir  Peter,  not  grasping 
his  friend's  meaning.  Lord  Otford  pointed 
with  his  gold-headed  cane  to  where  the  widow 
was  examining  the  houses. 

"Otford!"  cried  the  Admiral,  angrily;  but 
his  friend  interrupted  him  impatiently.  "Peter! 
He  's  run  away  with  that  gel ! " 

"That  he  has  n't!"  replied  Sir  Peter,  greatly 
relieved  at  being  able  to  speak  the  truth  for 
once.     "The  gel 's  here." 

"Fact?"  asked  Lord  Otford. 

"Solemn,"  affirmed  the  Admiral. 

Lord  Otford  strode  up  and  down  in  deep 
thought.  He  brought  himself  up  in  front  of 
the  Admiral.  There  was  evidently  something 
more  on  his  mind.  "Peter,"  he  said,  "do  you 
know  who  her  mother  is?" 

Sir  Peter  was  getting  impatient.  He  saw  all 
the  old,  narrow-minded  prejudices  being  trotted 
out  once  more.  "You're  not  going  to  begin 
that  again!"  he  cried,  angrily. 

"She's  Lucy  Pryor,"  said  Lord  Otford 
quietly. 

The  Admiral  stared  at  him.     For  a  moment 


POMANDER  WALK 

the  name  conveyed  no  meaning.  "Lucy 
Pryor  —  ?"  Then  the  meaning  suddenly  flashed 
on  him,  and  he  gasped,  "Not  Lucy  Pryor!" 

"Lucy  Pryor!"  repeated  Lord  Otford.  "Ha!" 
he  cried,  with  bitter  self-mockery,  "I  was  telling 
her  how  impossible  the   marriage  was  —  " 

"And  she  turned  out  to  be  Lucy  Pryor!" 
The  Admiral  was  so  hugely  delighted  that  for 
a  moment  he  was  unable  to  go  on.  "Jack,  my 
boy,"  he  roared,  doubled  up  with  laughter, 
"you  must  have  felt  like  six-pennorth  o'  ha'- 
pence —  what?" 

"I  did,"  answered  Lord  Otford,  grimly;  and 
then  he  added  shamefacedly,  "But  now  I  ■; — 
I  want  to  see  her  again.  I  must  see  her 
again." 

"Never  know  when  you  've  had  enough,  eh.^" 
chuckled  Sir  Peter,  wiping  the  tears  from  his 
streaming  eyes. 

"Laugh,  you  brute!"  cried  Lord  Otford. 
"Laugh!  Well  you  may.  She'll  never  allow 
me  inside  her  house.  She  was  magnificent! 
Patuit  dea,   Peter!     She  came  the  Goddess!" 

"What  did  I  tell  you.?"  laughed  Sir  Peter, 
waving  his  handkerchief  triumphantly.  "Didn't 
Isay— .?" 

"Can't  you  coax  her  out  here.?"  interrupted 
his  friend. 

"Me!"  cried  the  Admiral.     "No!  — I've  told 

you:  I  '11  have  nothing  to  do  with  it!" 

238 


POMANDER  WALK 

Try  how  she  might,  Mrs.  Poskett  had  only- 
been  able  to  pick  up  fragments  of  the  con- 
versation, but  those  had  been  enough  to  arouse 
her  curiosity.  Also  she  felt  she  had  been  stand- 
ing neglected  much  too  long.  "Now,  you  two," 
she  said,  coming  between  them,  "I'm  sure 
you  've  gossiped  long  enough." 

Otford  turned  to  her.  "Madam,"  said  he, 
In  his  most  winning  manner,  "will  you  do  me 
a  great  favour.^"  — 

"I'm  sure  your  lordship  wouldn't  ask  me 
anything  unbecoming,"  she  replied,  with  pretty 
modesty. 

"Will  you  persuade  Madame  Lachesnals  to 
come  out  and  taste  the  evening  air,  not  telling 
her  I  am  here.^  " 

Mrs.  Poskett  looked  at  him  enquiringly,  and 
with  a  woman's  intuition  read  an  affirmation 
in  his  eyes. 

"Don't  do  anything  of  the  sort,  Pamela!" 
cried  the  Admiral,  warningly. 

She  turned  sharply  on  him.  How  thick- 
headed men  were,  to  be  sure!  "Peter,  I  'm 
ashamed  of  you!"  Then  she  addressed  Lord 
Otford,  "With  great  pleasure,  my  Lord.  Me 
and  Peter  's  that  happy,  we  want  to  see  every- 
body ditto." 

The  Admiral  stared  from  one  to  the  other  In 
amazement.  What  did  she  mean?  What  could 
she    mean,  but  one    thing.'*      "Gobblessmysoul, 

239 


POMANDER     WALK 

Jack!"   he  cried   at  last,   in  utter  amazement, 
"Is   that  it?" 

"That's  it!"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  with  a 
laugh. 

"That 's  it!"  said  Lord  Otford,  with  a  melan- 
choly smile. 

Mrs.  Poskett  tripped  joyously  to  Madame's 
house;  knocked,  and  was  admitted. 

The  Admiral  seized  his  friend  by  both  hands 
with  enthusiasm.  "Here!  Come  in!  Come  in 
and  have  a  glass  of  port-wine!" 

"But  if  Madame  —  "  began  Lord  Otford. 

"Come  in!  She  won't  budge  from  the  house 
if  she  sees  you  here.  Pamela  will  warn  us, 
when  she's  got  her,  and,"  ruefully,  "she'll 
get  her,  fast  enough."  They  turned  to  go 
towards  Sir  Peter's  house;  but  Lord  Otford 
stopped  short,  in  surprise. 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had  opened  his  upstairs 
window  and  was  leaning  out,  fanning  himself 
with  his  handkerchief. 

"Hoskyn,  by  all  that's  wonderful!"  said 
Lord  Otford,  eyeing  unconscious  Brooke-Hoskyn 
through  his  lorgnette. 

Sir  Peter  corrected  him.  "Brooke-Hoskyn; 
with  a  hyphen.     I  said  you  must  know  him." 

"Know  him!"  cried  Lord  Otford,  laughing, 
"Know  my  old  butler!     I  should  think  so!" 

"What.^"  asked  the  Admiral,  not  believing 
his  ears. 

240 


POiMANDER     WALK 


«' 


'He   married   my  cook,  Mrs.    Brooke!     And 
now  he  's  City  toast  master." 

Sir  Peter  gave  a  low  whistle.  "That's  it,  is 
it.?"  What  a  triumph!  "When  the  Walk 
knows  that  —  !" 

"That's  your  man  of  fashion,  is  it,  Peter?" 
laughed  Lord  Otford. 

But  the  Admiral  was  thinking.  "  No ! "  he  cried, 
suddenly,  "Damme!  No!  he's  a  good  fellow, 
and  I'm  not  a  blackguard!  —  Jack,  follow  my 
lead."  He  made  a  speaking-trumpet  with  his 
hands  and  roared,  as  if  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  had 
been  a  mile  away,  "Ahoy!  Brooky,  my  boy! 
Here  's  your  old  friend,  Otford." 

Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn  nearly  fell  out  of  the 
window. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Hoskyn,"  said  Lord  Otford, 
cheerfully,  with  an  amiable  wave  of  his  hand. 

"Oh,  don't!"  groaned  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn, 
hoarsely.  "  Oh,  my  Lord !  —  Not  at  this  moment ! 
I  ain't  equal  to  it,  your  Lordship!  I  reely  ain't!" 

"Sorry  you're  ill,"  said  Lord  Otford,  with  a 
pleasant  laugh.  "Too  much  to  eat,  and  too 
little  to  do.  What  you  want  is  a  family  to  keep 
you  lively!" 

"A  family!"  almost  shrieked  Mr.  Brooke- 
Hoskyn.  "Oh,  my  Lord!"  He  disappeared  ab- 
ruptly from  the  window,  and  Lord  Otford  and 
the  Admiral  went  arm-in-arm  and  laughing 
heartily  into  the  latter's  house. 

241 


POMANDER  WALK 

It  was  now  quite  dark  in  the  Walk:  the  trans- 
lucent darkness  of  a  perfect  June  night.  The 
stillness  was  so  great  that  you  could  hear  the 
river  lapping  against  the  bank  as  it  flowed  by. 
Behind  the  tower  of  Chiswick  Church  the  sky 
shone  pale,  but,  above,  it  melted  into  purple  in 
which  the  stars  seemed  to  hang  loose.  Even  the 
leaves  of  the  elm  had  ceased  to  whisper  together 
and  had  gone  to  sleep.  Here  and  there  in  the 
Walk  a  faint  light  appeared  behind  drawn  blinds 
and  closed  curtains.  Presently  the  bow  window 
of  the  Misses  Pennymint's  house  was  gently 
opened,  and  Barbara  and  Basil  appeared.  Their 
arms  were  twined  round  each  other,  and  Barbara's 
pretty  head  reposed  against  her  lover's  shoulder. 
Framed  in  the  jasmine  that  encircled  the  window, 
they  made  as  touching  a  picture  as  you  could 
wish  to  see.  They  stood  quite  still,  inhaling 
the  fragrance  of  the  slumbering  elm,  and  think- 
ing thoughts  unutterable. 

As  they  opened  their  window  Jack  opened 
his.  He  was  famished,  and  there  was  no 
sign  of  Marjolaine.  Could  she  have  forgotten 
him.'' 

"'On  such  a  night  as  this — '"  began  Basil, 
in  his  richest  and  deepest  notes. 

Jack  whistled  a  flourish  very  softly. 

"Hark,  Basil,"  whispered  Barbara,  looking 
up  into  his  eyes.    "Hark!    The  nightingale!" 

Jack  whistled  a  little  louder. 

242 


POMANDER  WALK 

"Do  you  think  that  is  the  nightingale,  dear- 
est?" ventured  Basil. 

Jack  whistled  loud  and  impatiently. 

"At  least  let  us  make  believe  it  is,"  murmured 
Barbara. 

Jack's  whistle  rose  to  a  screech. 

"My  own  one!"  boomed  Basil,  in  a  voice 
like  subdued  but  passionate  thunder. 

Jack  was  just  on  the  point  of  a  despairing 
effort,  when  Madame's  door  opened.  He  craned 
forward  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Marjolaine  emerge, 
but  had  to  withdraw  swiftly,  for  Mrs.  Poskett 
came  down  the  steps,  followed  by  Madame. 

"The  air  is  so  balmy,  it's  a  pity  to  stay  in- 
doors," Mrs.  Poskett  was  saying. 

"We  were  just  coming  out,"  answered 
Madame.  "Marjolaine  is  strangely  restless." 
She  had  come  down  the  steps  and  now  saw 
Barbara  and  Basil  in  the  window.  She  stopped 
astonished.     "Ah  ~  .?  —  Why!  —  Really.?  —  " 

"Yes!"  cried  Barbara,  joyfully,  clinging  closer 
to  Basil.  "We  are  to  be  married  at  once!  We 
are  going  to  ask  Doctor  Sternroyd  to  get  us  a 
licence." 

"My  own  one!"  Basil's  deep  diapason  rever- 
berated through  the  night. 

"Oh!  I  am  so  very  glad!"  said  Madame,  in 
her  most  charming  manner. 

But  to  Basil  even  this  gentle  congratulation 
seemed   almost  like  a  desecration.     "Come  in, 

243 


POMANDER     WALK 

my  own,"  he  throbbed,  "lest  the  winds  of  heaven 
visit  your  face  too  roughly." 

"Ah!"  sighed  Barbara.  What  beautiful  lan- 
guage he  used,  to  be  sure,  and  how  different  from 
Charles's.  Closely  linked  they  sank  back  into 
the  darkness  of  the  room. 

"Well,  I  never!"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  alluding 
to  them.  "I  wonder  who'll  be  getting  married 
next!"  She  and  Madame  came  and  sat  under 
the  elm. 

Marjolaine  crept  very  cautiously  down  the 
steps.  She  was  elaborately  concealing  something 
in  the  folds  of  her  dress.  She  stole  along  the 
railings,  watching  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Poskett, 
till  she  got  to  Doctor  Sternroyd's  gate.  There 
she  swiftly  deposited  two  packages  just  inside 
the  railing.  Then  she  joined  the  others,  looking 
as  innocent  as  a  lamb. 

Mrs.  Poskett  said  simperingly,  "I  wanted 
you  to  be  the  first  to  hear  of  my  betrothal." 

"I  hope  he'll  make  you  very  happy,"  said 
Madame,  cordially. 

"I  '11  see  to  that!"  answered  Mrs.  Poskett;  and 
her  manner  showed  she  meant  it. 

"Isn't  it  wonderful,  Maman!"  exclaimed 
Marjolaine.  "An  angel's  wing  has  touched 
Pomander  Walk,  and  everybody  's  going  to  be 
married!" 

"Yes,  my  poor  child,"  said  Madame,  and  held 
out  her  hand  sympathetically  to  draw  her  daugh- 

244 


POMANDER     WALK 

ter  to  her  heart.  But  Marjolaine  had  turned 
away,  and  was  singing!    Actually  singing! 

"In  Scarlet  Town  —  "  she  had  begun. 

"Surely,  you  are  not  going  to  sing!"  said 
Madame,  almost  reproachfully. 

"Let  her.  Ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Poskett,  "'t  will 
keep  her  quiet." 

So  Marjolaine  stood  between  her  mother  and 
Doctor  Sternroyd's  house,  and  sang. 

"  In  Scarlet  Town,  where  I  was  born 
There  was  a  fair  Maid  dwellin' — " 


(( 


'Ah!     these    pathetic    old    ballads!"    sighed 
Madame,  turning  to  Mrs.   Poskett. 

At  the  first  note  of  Marjolaine's  song  Jack 
had  appeared  at  the  window.  Marjolaine  now 
half  turned  to  him,  and  went  on:  — 

"  A  pigeon-pie  and  a  loaf  of  bread 
Are  just  behind  the  railin'!" 

The  lamplighter,  a  wizened  little  man  with  a 
face  like  a  ferret's,  came  running  round  the 
corner  with  his  short  ladder  over  his  shoulder. 
He  put  it  against  the  lamp-post  opposite  the 
Admiral's  house,  swarmed  up  it  like  a  squirrel, 
lighted  the  lamp,  slid  down  the  ladder,  and  ran 
quickly  to  the  lamp  at  Doctor  Sternroyd's. 

Jack  had  the  door  ajar,  and  was  eagerly  peep- 
ing out;  but  in  the  darkness  he  could  see  nothing. 

245 


POMANDER    WALK 


H' 


'The  lamplighter ! "  exclaimed  Madame  Laches- 
nais,  with  some  surprise.  "I  thought  there  was 
a  moon  to-night." 

"Perhaps  he's  forgotten,"  answered  Mrs. 
Poskett.  "Anyhow,  he  '11  come  and  put  out 
the  lights  as  soon  as  the  moon  rises." 

Marjolaine  saw  Jack's  dilemma  and  began 
singing  again: — 

"  All  in  the  merry  month  of  May 

When  green  buds  they  were  swellin'!" 

The  lamplighter  was  on  his  ladder  lighting 
the  Doctor's  lamp. 

"I  should  hke  to  congratulate  the  Admiral," 
said  Madame. 

"I'll  send  him  out  to  you,"  answered  Mrs. 
Poskett,  eagerly.  She  saw  her  chance  of  obliging 
Lord  Otford.  Madame  rose  with  her  and  ac- 
companied her  towards  Sir  Peter's  house.  Mar- 
jolaine turned  towards  Jack,  pointing  with 
violent  gesticulations  to  where  the  victuals  lay: — 

"You'll  find  the  parcels  where  I  say 
By  lookin'  or  by  smellin'!" 

Then  she  ran  into  the  summer-house. 

Jack  caught  sight  of  the  food,  and  with  a 
delighted  "Ha!"  crept  down  the  steps.  Unfor- 
tunately, however,  the  lamplighter  had  heard 
Marjolainc's   words   and   followed   the  direction 

246 


POMANDER  WALK 

in    which    she    had    pointed.      His    Httle    ferret 
eyes  gleamed  greedily. 

Madame  left  Mrs.  Poskett  to  go  into  the  house, 
and  turned  to  where  she  had  left  her  daughter, 
but  no  Marjolaine  was  to  be  seen.  " Marjolaine ! " 
she  called,  anxiously. 

Marjolaine  came  slowly  out  of  the  Gazebo. 
Her  hands  were  folded  in  front  of  her  and  her 
eyes  were  cast  down.  She  looked  altogether  as 
subdued  as  a  Saint  in  a  stained-glass  window. 

"Me  voila,  Maman,"  she  said,  demurely. 

Madame  sat  under  the  elm,  a  little  to  the 
right  of  the  trunk. 

Marjolaine  came  and  knelt  at  her  feet  and 
seized  both  her  hands  so  that  she  held  the  poor, 
deluded  lady  with  her  back  to  the  houses,  while 
she  herself  could  watch  Jack  in  his  quest  of  the 
pigeon-pie. 

Madame  was  glad  of  this  opportunity  of  say- 
ing a  few  well-chosen  words  to  her  daughter. 

She  began  very  gravely:  —  "Marjolaine,  you 
are  putting  on  this  gaiety  to  please  me  —  " 

"No,  Maman,"  said  Marjolaine;  but  at  that 
moment  the  lamplighter  slid  down  his  ladder,  and, 
creeping  on  all  fours,  began  stalking  the  pigeon- 
pie.  She  saw  it  was  going  to  be  a  race  between  the 
lamplighter  and  Jack  for  the  coveted  prize,  and 
she  could  not  suppress  a  little  startled  "Oh!" 

"Why  do  you  cry  out  like  that?"  asked 
Madame,  with  deep  concern. 

247 


POMANDER     WALK 

Marjolaine  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  the 
world  to  keep  from  laughing.  "Nothing, 
Maman!"  she  said,  volubly.  "You  are  not  to 
be  anxious  about  me.    I  am  quite,  quite  happy." 

The  race  was  continuing.  Although  Jack  saw 
the  lamplighter's  manoeuvre,  he  could  not 
move  quickly,  for  fear  of  making  a  noise  and 
being  heard  by  Madame. 

"I  saw  Lord  Otford  yesterday,"  Madame 
continued. 

Marjolaine's  entire  attention  was  absorbed 
by  the  rivals.  "You  saw — .?"  she  repeated, 
vaguely.  But  at  that  moment  the  lamplighter 
was  perceptibly  gaining  on  Jack.  "Oh!  Oh!" 
she  cried,  with  a  stifled  laugh. 

Madame  was  shocked.  "Marjolaine,  you  are 
laughing!" 

"No,  no!"  cried  Marjolaine,  "It  was  —  it 
was  surprise." 

"He  was  very  stern,  very  indignant,"  her 
mother  proceeded;  "but  I  did  not  flinch.  I 
told  him  you  —  " 

The  lamplighter  snatched  the  pigeon-pie  and 
fled.  Jack,  speechless  with  rage  and  disappoint- 
ment, was  on  the  point  of  rushing  after  him,  but, 
to  his  horror,  he  caught  sight  of  his  father  coming 
out  of  the  Admiral's  house,  and  only  just  had 
time  to  bolt  back  Into  the  Antiquary's. 

Marjolaine  gave  up.  In  an  uncontrollable  fit 
of  hysterical  laughter  she  dashed  into  her  own 

248 


POMANDER  WALK 

house,  almost  knocking  Lord  Otford  over  on 
her  way,  and  leaving  her  poor  mother  utterly 
dumbfounded  on  the  seat.  Had  grief  affected 
the  poor  child's  brain?  Madame  rose  hurriedly 
to  follow  her  daughter  —  and  there  stood  Lord 
Otford. 


249 


CHAPTER  XV 

SHOWING  HOW  THE 
ROUNDABOUT  ROAD 
LEADS    BACK  TO  THE      //'^^V  \ 


STARTING    POINT  V-     i'       '"~^^;«,  ^^     \ 


C.     -    . 


(( 


E 


ORD  OXFORD!"  cried  Madame. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said,  very  gently. 
"Pray  allow  me  to  pass!"  for  he  was 
standing  right  in  her  road.     "I  am  very  anxious 
about  my  child." 

"If  I  am  any  judge,"  said  he,  with  a  smile, 
"that  young  lady  is  in  the  best  of  health  and 
spirits." 

Madame  was  indignant.  "You  are  mistaken. 
She  is  —  "  but  this  would  never  do;  she  was 
just  going  to  let  out  that  Marjolaine  was  heart- 
broken because  of  Jack  Sayle's  desertion:  the 
very  last  thing  Lord  Otford  must  know.  "Yes, 
of  course,"  she  corrected  herself.  "She  is  well 
and  happy,  but  —  " 

"Then,"  said  Lord  Otford,  "will  you  favour 
me  with  a  few  moments?" 

She  could  not  help  noticing  with  some  satis- 
faction   how    different    his    manner    was    from 

250 


POMANDER     WALK 

when  they  had  last  met.  Then  he  had  tried  to 
bluster  and  bully;  now  he  was  all  deference. 
But  she  would  not  yield  a  jot.  She  drew  her- 
self up  proudly. 

"I  can  see  no  use  in  renewing  our  painful  —  " 

He  interrupted  her  deprecatingly.  "  I  am 
in  a  grave  perplexity.  My  son  has  dis- 
appeared —  " 

Madame  took  him  up  quickly.  "And  you 
suspect  us  of  harbouring  him!"  she  cried,  with 
genuine  anger. 

"No,  no!"  he  protested.    "On  my  honour,  no!" 

"Then—  ?" 

"Ah,  do  be  patient,"  he  continued,  almost 
humbly.    "I  am  here  on  an  errand  of  concili- 


ation." 


"Conciliation!"  echoed  Madame,  with  a  touch 
of  scorn. 

"Jack,"  Lord  Otford  began  explaining,  "is 
very  dear  to  me." 

"Marjolaine  is  very  dear  to  me,"  said  Madame, 
defiantly. 

Lord  Otford  bowed.  "Precisely.  I  have  been 
considering.  Are  we  justified  in  keeping  these 
two  young  people  apart?" 

Madame  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "Do 
you  say  that?" 

"I  do,"  he  smilingly  affirmed.    "Marjolaine, 

being  her  mother's  daughter,  must  be  a  charming 

gel." 

251 


POMANDER     WALK 

Madame  waved  the  compliment  aside.  He 
went  on. 

"And  although  Jack  Is  my  son,  he  is  a  thor- 
oughly good  fellow." 

"But  he  Is  contracted  to  marry  — "  Madame 
interrupted. 

"That  is  all  upset,"  said  Lord  Otford;  and 
the  curious  thing  was  that  he  did  not  seem  at  all 
put  out.  "Carrie  Thring  has  taken  the  bit 
between  her  teeth  and  eloped  with  the  curate." 

Madame  looked  at  him  sharply.  "And  your 
hopes  being  dashed  In  that  quarter,  you  come  —  " 

"No,  you  are  not  fair!"  protested  Lord  Otford. 
"I  think  I  should  have  come  In  any  case.  Seeing 
you  on  Saturday  has  revived  many  memories  —  " 

"It  needed  some  such  shock." 

Lord  Otford  winced;  but  he  continued  bravely. 
"I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  act  my  own 
father  over  again.  If  Jack  loved  your  daughter, 
he  was  to  marry  her." 

"  That  Is  no  longer  the  question,"  said  Madame 
with  emphasis.  "My  daughter  refuses  to  marry 
your  son." 

"Why.''  Because  she  does  not  love  him.'*" 
His  voice  was  very  grave  and  very  searching. 
Madame  tried  to  answer.  She  would  have 
given  worlds  to  have  been  able  to  say  "Yes." 
But  she  could  not  say  it,  and  she  was  silent. 
Lord  Otford  was  watching  her  keenly. 

"No!"  he  said,  almost  severely.     "No;    but 

252 


POMANDER  WALK 

only  because  you  tell  her  to  refuse.  She  simply 
obeys  out  of  habit.  You  are  undertaking  a  heavy 
responsibility.  Ah!  Why  punish  these  children 
because  I  behaved  like  a  fool  years  ago,  when  I 
knew  no  better?" 

Madame  sank  on  the  seat  under  the  elm.  Was 
he  right.'*  Had  she  acted  in  mere  selfishness.'* 
Was  she  breaking  Marjolaine's  heart  only  to 
gratify  something  very  like  spite.'* 

Lord  Otford  leant  over  her,  and  now  there 
was  a  ring  of  passion  in  his  voice.  "And  why 
punish  me  now,  so  late.?  Is  it  not  possible  for 
me  to  atone  —  Lucy?" 

"Lord  Otford!"  she  cried,  trying  to  rise. 

"Don't  stop  me  now!  Don't  go  away!"  he 
entreated,  motioning  her  back.  "Ah!  we  are 
poor  creatures  at  best!  We  go  blindly  past  our 
happiness.  Let  us  hark  back,  Lucy,  and  try 
to  find  the  trail  we  missed!" 

"We!"  cried  Madame. 

Madame  was  profoundly  stirred.  His  voice 
had  not  changed  at  all  in  all  those  years:  just 
so  had  he  murmured  passionate  words  in  the  old 
vicarage  garden.  She  must  take  care,  or  she 
would  fall  under  the  spell  of  it  again  —  and  that 
must  not  be.  She  must  take  care;  harden  her 
heart;   put  on  a  panoply  of  steel. 

"I  have  been  quite  happy,"  she  said  at  last, 
very  defiantly. 

253 


POMANDER     WALK 

"I  know  it,"  he  answered,  "and  I  am  glad  to 
know  It." 

"But  I  purchased  my  happiness  dearly." 
She  turned  on  him  with  bitter  resentment.  "You 
have  never  realised  the  suffering  you  inflicted 
on  me!" 

"I  can  imagine  it,"  he  answered,  almost 
voicelessly. 

"No,  you  cannot,"  she  retorted.  "Only  those 
who  have  gone  through  it  can  imagine  it.  Ah! 
think  of  pride  insulted;  ideals  smirched;  faith 
trampled  on;   tenderness  turned  back  on  itself!" 

"I  know  it  all,"  he  murmured. 

Madame  went  on,  more  as  if  she  were  com- 
muning with  herself.  "Nature  is  very  strong, 
very  merciful.  I  had  not  forgotten!  Never,  for 
one  moment!  But  life  covered  the  memory." 
She  paused  a  moment,  sunk  in  thought.  When 
she  spoke  again  it  was  in  a  gentler  voice.  "Then 
Jules  came,  and  offered  me  his  companionship. 
I  gave  him  all  I  could,  and  he  was  content.  Oh! 
the  good,  true,  generous  man!" 

Once  more  Lord  Otford  winced;  but  he  con- 
trived to  say  with  genuine  feeling,  "I  honour 
him."    After  all,  Jules  was  dead. 

"And  I  honour  his  memory,"  said  Madame, 
gravely. 

Lord  Otford  spoke  very  earnestly.  "We  are 
quite  frank,  Lucy:  you  loved  your  husband;  I 
loved  my  wife  —  " 

254 


POMANDER  WALK 

"And  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,"  concluded 
Madame,  rising,  with  a  little  sigh. 

"Ah!  but  there  is!"  he  exclaimed,  standing 
and  facing  her.  "Face  your  own  soul,  Lucy, 
and  tell  me:  did  the  thought  of  the  old  vicarage 
garden  at  Otford  never  haunt  you.''" 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes.  "Never 
with  any  suggestion  of  disloyalty  to  Jules," 
she  said  firmly. 

"That  I  am  sure  of.  But  it  came.  I  know." 
He  dropped  his  voice,  came  closer,  and  spoke 
with  deep  feeling.  "Lucy,  Lucy,  it  was  always 
there!  It  never  left  you,  as  it  never  left  me! 
It  was  the  fragrant  refuge,  into  which  we  crept 
in  our  solitary  moments  —  never  with  disloyalty 
on  your  side  or  mine  —  but  for  consolation,  for 
rest.     Is  that  true.^" 

"It  was  merely  the  echo  of  an  old  song  —  " 
she  murmured,  under  her  breath. 

"But  how  sweet!    How  tender!" 

"And  how  sad!"  Her  strength  was  going. 
Every  word  he  said  seemed  to  draw  the  strength 
out  of  her.  Her  heart  yearned  to  him;  her 
whole  soul  cried  out  for  him;  and  only  her  will 
resisted.  She  made  one  more  effort.  "No! 
No!"  she  cried,  "I  banished  the  memories! 
I  banish  them  now!" 

"You  could  not!  You  cannot!"  he  whispered, 
passionately.  "No  one  can!  —  Think  of  these 
two  children:    Marjolaine  and  Jack.     Suppose 

255 


POMANDER     WALK 

we  part  them  now :  suppose  they  go  their  different 
ways:  do  you  think  either  of  them  will  forget 
the  flowing  river,  the  sheltering  elm,  or  the  words 
they  have  whispered  under  it?  Never!  —  Lucy, 
Lucy  —  "  he  was  bending  over  her  where  she 
sat,  and  his  voice  had  all  the  old  thrill  — 
"though  we  go  astray  from  first  love;  though 
we  undervalue  it;  yes!  though  we  desecrate  it, 
it  never  dies!  —  On  revient  toujours  a  ses  premi- 
ers amours!" 

But  the  years  that  had  flown!  the  unrelenting 
years!  what  of  them? 

"We  cannot  retrace  our  steps,"  she  said, 
sadly,  "we  cannot  undo  suffering;  we  cannot 
win  back  innocence." 

"We  can!"  he  cried.  "We  started  from  the 
garden;  we  have  been  a  long  journey  with  all 
its  chances  and  adventures;  and  now  we  are  at 
the  garden  gate  again:  the  flowers  we  loved 
are  beckoning  to  us;  the  birds  we  loved  are 
calling  us;  we  have  but  to  lift  the  latch  — 
Lucy,  shall  we  not  open  the  gate  and  enter  the 
garden?" 

"We  cannot  recall  the  sunrise  —  " 

"But  the  sunset  can  be  as  beautiful!" 

"We  are  old,"  she  said;  but  her  voice  had 
no  conviction.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  at  that 
particular  moment  she  felt  she  was  eighteen. 

"I  deny  it!"  he  laughed.  He  felt  assured 
of  victory.    "Do  I  feel  old?    Do  you  look  old? 

256 


POMANDER  WALK 

—  I  can't  vault  a  five-barred  gate,  but  I 
can  open  it  and  get  on  the  other  side  just  as 
quickly!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  wistful  smile. 
"But  —  but  there   are  other  things  —  " 

"There  is,  above  all,  happiness!  If  we  have 
no  children  of  our  own,  Lucy,  we  shall  have 
our  grandchildren." 

"No!"  she  cried,  rising,  and  shaking  her 
head.  "I  have  been  too  persuasive.  Mar- 
jolaine's  love  has  been  nipped  in  the  bud.  And 
besides.  Jack  has  run  away  from  her." 

"Not  he,  if  I  know  the  young  rascal!"  He 
took  both  her  hands  in  his.  "You  tell  me 
Marjolaine   is  well   and   happy?" 

"Yes;  but  hysterical.  You  saw  for  yourself, 
just  now." 

"Is  she  a  flighty  coquette.'" 

"Certainly  not!" 

"Then  I  '11  bet  you  a  new  hat  —  No!  a  diamond 
tiara!  —  she  knows  where  Jack  is,  and  there's 
an  understanding  between   them!" 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Madame,  as  the  possibility 
of  this  idea  struck  her. 

"Lucy!"  cried  Lord  Otford,  drawing  her  to 
him,  "both  couples  shall  be  married  on  the 
same  day!" 

You  have  no  idea  how  pretty  Madame  looked 
in  her  confusion  and  happiness.  You  have  no 
idea   how   young   and    handsome   Lord    Otford 

257 


POMANDER     WALK 

looked  in  his  victory.  Love  had  set  the  clock 
back  for  both  of  them  —  and  they  were  young 
man   and   young  maid   again. 

What  had  become  of  Madame's  resentment? 
What  had  become  of  all  the  arguments  she  had 
thought  of  when  he  first  began  to  speak.''  His 
voice  had  effaced  them  all.  It  was  so  natural 
to  be  loved  by  him  and  to  love  him,  that  no  other 
thing  seemed  possible.  She  had  nothing  to 
say.  She  could  only  breathe  a  great  sigh  of 
contentment  as  he  touched  her:  she  felt  as  if 
she  had  parted  with  him  in  the  garden  only 
last  night;  and  to-night  he  had  come  again; 
and  all  was  as  it  should  be;  and  all  was  well. 

But  suddenly  she  started  away  from  him. 

"Jack!"  she  cried,  with  horror,  "we  shall 
have  to  tell  them!" 

"Oh,  Lord!"  exclaimed  Otford  with  comic 
dismay. 

"I  can't  face  Marjolaine!"  said  Madame, 
with  a  pretty  blush,  which,  however,  was  wasted 
in  the  darkness. 

"Jack  '11  roast  me  properly!"  groaned  Lord 
Otford. 

"You  see  it's  hopeless!  We've  been  telling 
them  how  utterly  impossible  their  marriage  is, 
and  now  we  propose  to  get  married  ourselves! 
How  they  '11  laugh  at  us!" 

"Let  'em!"  cried  Lord  Otford.  "By  Gad,  it 
shall  be  happy  laughter!"     And   therewith  he 

258 


POMANDER    WALK 

drew  Madame  Into  his  arms  and  kissed  her; 
and   I    cannot   honestly   say   she    resisted. 

But  they  were  interrupted  by  Doctor  Stern- 
royd,  who  at  that  very  moment  came  stumbling 
out  of  his  house.  Also  the  Eyesore  and  Jim 
came  round  the  corner  together,  with  their 
arms  affectionately  round  each  other's  necks 
and  every  symptom  of  having  spent  the  larger 
part  of  Mrs.  Poskett's  bribes.  The  Eyesore 
found  his  box  with  difficulty  and  sank  on  it 
with  relief.  It  was  with  a  shaky  hand  he  took 
up  his  rod  and  fell  to  fishing  again.  Jim  mean- 
dered deviously  into  the  Admiral's   house. 

"Sh!"  whispered  Madame,  warningly,  as 
she  saw  the  antiquary.  She  turned  to  him 
with  that  preternatural  calmness  which  ladies 
know  so  well  how  to  assume  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, and  said,  alluding  to  something 
he  was  carrying  In  his  hand,  "Why,  Doctor, 
are  you  fetching  milk  so  late.''  I  can  give  you 
some." 

"No,  Ma'am,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  sup- 
pressed rage.  "I  am  not  seeking  the  lacteal 
fluid.  As  you  see  me,  I,  the  Reverend  Jacob 
Sternroyd,  Doctor  of  Divinity  and  Fellow  of 
the  Society  of  Antiquaries,  am  on  my  way  to 
procure  Ale!  —  "  And  with  a  face  expressive 
of  the  utmost  disgust  he  held  out  a  very  diminu- 
tive white  milk-jug. 

"Oh!"  said  Madame,  with  a  tinge  of  astonish- 

259 


POMANDER     WALK 

ment.  Then,  in  order  to  account  for  the  presence 
of  a  stranger,  she  added,  "This  is  Lord  Otford." 

With  a  cry  of  "Good  Heavens!"  the  conscience- 
striken  Doctor  let  the  jug  fall.  Happily  it  fell 
on  the  lawn  and  was  not  damaged. 

With  native  courtesy  Lord  Otford  picked 
it  up  and  handed  it  to  its  owner.  "Allow  me: 
your  jug,  I  think."  Then,  as  a  sudden  idea 
occurred  to  him,  "By  the  way,  Doctor  —  "  he 
cast  a  meaning  glance  at  Madame  —  "  can  you 
tell  me  anything  about  a  marriage-licence.''" 

Madame  looked  down,  with  another  very 
becoming  blush:  but  the  Doctor's  behaviour  was 
quite  extraordinary.  He  threw  up  his  hands  in 
guilty  despair.  "I  said  so!  I  knew  it  would 
come  out!  — "  He  appealed  to  Madame. 
"Miss  Barbara  told  you!" 

"Yes  —  but  —  "  answered  Madame,  puzzled 
and  astonished. 

The  Doctor  continued  rapidly,  while  the 
couple  could  only  stare  at  him  in  mute  amaze- 
ment. 

"I  wash  my  hands  of  it!  Two  whole  days, 
one  of  which  was  the  blessed  Sabbath,  I  have 
been  up  to  my  neck  in  cabals  and  intrigues! 
I  have  done!  —  "  He  fumbled  in  his  pockets 
and  ultimately  produced  a  legal-looking  docu- 
ment. "My  Lord,  it  was  very  kind  of  you  to 
approach  the  subject  so  considerately,  but  here 
is  what  you  ask  for.     His  Grace  was  very  re- 

260 


POMANDER     WALK 

luctant,  but  the  pipe,  which  I  now  fear  was  not 
genuine,  did  it."  Then,  as  if  he  had  unburdened 
himself  of  some  oppressive  load  of  guilt,  he 
cried,  "Hah!  My  conscience  is  white  again! 
I  will  tell  the  young  fire-brand!"  And  with 
that  he  hurried  back  into  the  house,  caUing, 
"Jack!    Jack!" 

"But  what  is  all  this?"  cried  Lord  Otford. 
He  unfolded  the  paper  and  took  it  under  the 
lamp.  As  soon  as  he  had  read  the  first  lines,  he 
gave  a  cry  of  amused  surprise.  "What  do  you 
say  now,  Lucy.?"  —  Then  he  read  aloud,  "John 
Sayle,  of  Pomander  Walk,  in  the  Parish  of 
Chiswick,  bachelor,  and  Marjolaine  Lachesnais, 
also  of  Pomander  Walk,  spinster  —  " 

"Under  our  very  noses!"  exclaimed  Madame, 
half  vexed  and  half  amused. 

"And  old  Dryasdust  has  been  harbouring 
Jack!  And  now  he  's  gone  to  tell  him!  —  Lucy, 
let 's  see  what  desperate  thing  they  '11  do  next. 
Come!"  He  drew  her  gently  into  the  Gazebo, 
and  for  a  moment  there  was  complete  silence 
in  the  Walk. 

But  suddenly  this  was  shattered  by  a  fierce 
outcry  in  Doctor  Sternroyd's  passage.  The 
door  was  flung  open  and  the  Doctor  appeared, 
vainly  trying  to  bar  Jack's  way. 

"But,  my  dear  young  friend  —  "  the  Doctor 
was  protesting. 

"Let    me    pass!"    shouted    Jack,    livid,    and 

261 


POMANDER     WALK 

thrusting  his  host  aside.  "For  five  years  I  Ve 
been  a  sailor,  and  I  can't  think  of  the  words  I 
want!" 

"Dear,  dear!  Tut,  tut!"  said  the  Doctor; 
but  he  did  not  wait.  The  conspiracy  at  any 
rate  was  off  his  mind.  He  retired  into  his 
house,  and  carefully  locked  the  door. 

Jack  rushed  to  Marjolaine's  house  and 
boldly  performed  a  long  rat-tat  with  the  brass 
knocker,  muttering  to  himself  all  the  time, 
"The  old  fool!    Oh,  my  stars!  the  silly  old  fool!" 

Nanette  appeared. 

"Tell  Miss  Marjory  that  —  "  began  Jack, 
violently. 

"Plait-il.^"  said  Nanette,  impassively. 

"Oh,  hang!  —  Er  —  deet  ah  Madermer- 
zell  —  " 

But  Marjolaine  ran  into  the  passage.  "Jack!" 
she  cried,  much  alarmed.     "Oh!     What  is  it.^" 

"Come  out!  Come  out!"  cried  Jack,  seizing 
her  hand  and  dragging  her  hastily  down  the 
steps,    to    Nanette's    horror    and    Indignation. 

"Ah,  mais!"  the  latter  exclaimed,  "Ou  est  done 
Madame.^"  and  went  in  to  look  for  her. 

Jack  was  incoherent.  "  Sternroyd ! "  he  gasped. 
"He  had  the  licence!  Had  it!  We  were  to  be 
married  to-morrow!  And  he  's  gone  and  given 
it  —  to  whom  do  you  think. ^  —  to  my  father!" 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  poor  Marjolaine,  "then 
all  is  over!" 

262 


POAIANDER    WALK 


«' 


'No!"  he  cried,  with  magnificent  determi- 
nation. "All's  to  begin  again!  Take  me  to 
your  mother.    Then  I  '11  take  you  to  my  father." 

Lord  Otford  and  Madame  Lachesnais  had 
come  out  of  the  summer-house. 

"That  is  what  you  should  have  done  at  first, 
sir!"  said  Lord  Otford. 

"Father!"  cried  Jack,  amazed. 

With  a  half-frightened  cry  of  "Maman!" 
Marjolaine  threw  herself  in  her  mother's  arms. 

But  Jack  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  He 
faced  his  father  heroically.  "It's  no  use,  sir! 
You  can  cut  me  off  with  a  shilling,  but  I  mean 
to  marry  Marjory!" 

Marjolaine  was  not  to  be  outdone  in  courage. 
"Maman!"  she  said,  with  a  radiant  face,  "he 
came  back;  and  I  'm  going  to  marry  him." 

Lord  Otford  turned  gravely  to  Madame. 
"What  do  you  say.?" 

"I  say,  God  bless  them." 

"Maman!"  cried  Marjolaine,  hugging  her. 

"And  I,  too,  say  God  bless  them!"  cried  Lord 
Otford,  heartily. 

"Marjory!"  shouted  Jack;  and  in  a  moment 
the  lovers  were  in  each  other's  arms. 

"H'm,"  suggested  Lord  Otford,  drily,  "I  be- 
lieve this  is  a  public  thoroughfare!" 

The  lovers  separated  abashed.  "Oh,  sir!" 
said  Jack,  "please  give  me  back  that  document." 

"Why,    no.    Jack,"    answered    his    father,    "I 

263 


POMANDER    WALK 

want  that."  And  he  and  Madame  glanced  at 
each  other  guiltily. 

"But,  sir!"  protested  Jack. 

"Urn  —  the  fact  is  —  "  Lord  Otford  had 
never  felt  so  shy  in  his  life.  In  vain  he  appealed 
to  Madame  for  support;  she  was  much  too  busy 
examining  the  very  pretty  point  of  her  very 
pretty  shoe.  "  I  say,  the  fact  is  —  with  slight 
alterations  —  it  may  come  in  useful.  Er  —  I, 
too,  am  John  Sayle  —  and  —  um  —  I,  too,  am 
going  to  get  married." 

"Marjory,"  said  Jack,  very  gravely,  "my 
father 's    trying    to    be    funny." 

But  Marjolaine's  attention  was  divided  be- 
tween her  mother  and  Lord  Otford.  The  clumsy 
shyness  of  the  one  and  the  pretty  confusion  of 
the  other  gave  her,  as  she  would  have  said  in 
French,  furiously  to  think.  Besides  which,  we 
must  not  forget  she  was  in  her  Mother's  con- 
fidence. 

"Maman,"  she  said,  roguishly,  "I  believe!  — 
Lord  Otford!    I  believe—!" 

"Believe,  my  child,  believe!"  cried  Lord 
Otford,  glad  not  to  have  to  enter  into  further 
explanations.  He  took  her  pretty  head  between 
his  hands,  and  kissed  her.  "Here  's  the  docu- 
ment, Jack;  and  —  ah  —  there  is  a  pleasant 
seat  under  the  elm;  and  agreeable  retirement 
in    the  —  ah  —  Gazebo." 

So  he  and  Madame  sat  in  the  arbour,   and 

264 


POMANDER  WALK 

Jack  and  Marjolaine  sat  under  the  elm,  and  the 
leaves  of  that  wise  old  tree  having  been  awakened 
by  Jack,  asked  each  other  with  a  pleasant 
rustle  which  couple  was  the  happier  of  the  two. 

There  was  a  great  to-do  at  the  Admiral's. 
I  think  Mrs.  Poskett  had  been  watching  the 
lovers;  for  now  the  door  burst  open,  and  the 
Admiral  and  Jim  hauled  out  the  little  brass 
cannon,  followed  by  Mrs.  Poskett,  all  in  a 
flutter  with  pleasant  alarm.  While  they  were 
planting  the  gun  close  behind  the  unconscious 
Eyesore's  back,  the  lamplighter  came  running 
in  —  he  always  ran  —  and  put  out  the  first 
lamp.  Barbara  and  Basil  came  slowly  out  of 
their  house,  and  leant  over  the  railings  in  a 
close  embrace,  while  Ruth  stood  watching 
them  from  the  upper  window.  Basil,  indeed, 
had  brought  his  fiddle. 

*'Haul  her  out!"  roared  Sir  Peter,  alluding 
to  the  gun. 

Mrs.  Poskett  uttered  a  little  scream.  "Oh, 
Peter!    I  'm  frightened!" 

Jim  reassured  her  in  a  hoarse  grunt.  "It's 
all  right.  Mum,  I  've  emptied  her." 

The  lamplighter  put  out  the  lower  lamp. 

"What  are  you  doing  that  for.'"  cried  Jack. 

The  lamplighter  pointing  over  his  shoulder, 
replied  laconically,  "Moon!"  and  ran  off". 

Sir  Peter  was  just  about  to  apply  a  lighted 
candle  to  the  touch-hole  of  the  gun,  when  Mr. 

265 


POMANDER  WALK 

Jerome  Brooke-Hoskyn,  much  dishevelled,  threw 
open  his  window,  and  cried  in  a  horrified  whisper, 
"Sir  Peter!  Sir  Peter!  —  For  Heaven's  sake, 
don't  fire  that  gun!" 

"Why  the  devil  not,  sir?"  roared  Sir  Peter, 
angrily. 

"Sh!"  cried  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn,  waving  a 
frantic  hand.     ''It's  a  hoy  T 

"Gobblessmysoul!"  cried  Sir  Peter,  "I'll 
be  godfather!" 

And  all  the  Walk  was  delighted,  and  the  leaves 
of  the  elm  clapped  their  hands  together  in  the 
evening  breeze. 

Basil  gently  disengaged  his  arm  from  Bar- 
bara's waist  and  began  playing  the  slow  move- 
ment of  the  Kreutzer  Sonata  very,  very  softly. 

Suddenly,  behind  the  tower  of  Chiswick 
Church,  up  leapt  the  great  full  moon,  turning 
the  river  to  molten  light,  and  flooding  the  Walk 
with  gold. 

The  Admiral  and  Mrs.  Poskett  hurried  to 
the  Gazebo  —  but  that  was  full.  They  turned 
to  the  seat  under  the  elm  —  but  that  was  oc- 
cupied.   "Gobblessmysoul!"  said  the  Admiral. 

So  they  had  to  be  content  to  stand  very  close 
together,  watching  the  river.  And  Sempronius 
came  and  rubbed  his  arched  back  against  the 
Admiral's  legs.  Jim  and  Nanette  looked  on 
from  their  door-steps  in  amazement. 

In    his    bow-window    Doctor    Sternroyd    was 

266 


POMANDER     WALK 

gazing  fondly  at  a  faded  miniature,  while  with 
his  other  hand  he  raised  a  glass  of  punch  on 
high.  "Araminta!"  he  sighed,  and  drank  to  her 
memory. 

"Oh,  Selina!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brooke-Hoskyn. 

In  the  Gazebo  there  was  a  very  tender  whisper: 
—  "Lucy!" 

Marjolaine's  head  sank  on  her  lover's  shoulder 
with  a  happy,  "Oh,  Jack!" 

Ruth  was  showering  blossoms  of  jasmine  on 
Barbara  and  Basil. 

There  was  a  great  silence,  emphasized  by 
the  yearning  notes  of  Basil's  fiddle.  And 
through  the  silence  came  Ruth's  voice,  tender 
and  wistful :  — 

"Ah,  well! — I'm  sure  we  all  hope  they'll 
live   happily  ever  after!"  — 

And,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  the  Eyesore 
caught  a  fish. 


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